


Storm Clouds, Emerald Skies

by Sincerely_Devra



Series: Harry Potter and the Secrets Only Blood Can Tell [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Alpha Draco Malfoy, Alpha Ruts, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Bite/bond mark, Creature Fic, Creature Inheritance, Harry's name is spelled Hari but pronounced the same, Knotting, Lets be clear rape/non-con scene is a dream, M/M, Nesting, Not Epilogue Compliant, Omega Harry Potter, Omega Heats, Omega Verse, Omegas in heat cannot concent, Past child abuse and neglect, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows AU, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pseudoscience, Scenting, Self-Harm, Self-Loathing, Self-Mutilation, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 22:04:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 81,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13773501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincerely_Devra/pseuds/Sincerely_Devra
Summary: All pureblood Wizarding families are related to each other either by marriage or blood. Inbreeding led to an increase in the birth of squibs, children with birth defects, and a decrease in fertility in males and females. In secret, many purebloods disinherit these children-casting them out into the muggle world, or even commit infanticide.As a result, the number of magical blood has decreased drastically, until one French Wizard by the name of John-Jacques Paquin discovered that the magical properties of Wizarding families could be restored and enhanced by introducing creatures’ blood into the gene pool. Witches and Wizards with creatures’ blood come into an inheritance upon their eighteenth birthday. Along with a magical boost, a byproduct of the creatures’ Inheritance is the discovery of a secondary gender; alpha, beta, or omega.Or:  “I’m Harry, just Harry.” Pffft! Unbeknownst to Harry, he has creatures’ blood and upon his eighteenth birthday will be coming into his inheritance. Guess what his secondary gender is? Omega! Harry must now face an even greater challenge; navigating a new world of aggressive alphas and fighting his own omega instincts. What will the secrets of his blood reveal about himself?





	1. 12 Grimmauld Place

**Author's Note:**

> \------  
> The Wonderful World of Harry Potter, the characters and images all belongs to the amazing mind of J.K. Rowling and no copyright infringement was intended in the creation of this fan fiction.  
> \------

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter returns to Grimmauld Place a couple weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts. What surprises await him at this grim old place?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wonderful World of Harry Potter, the characters and images all belongs to the amazing mind of J.K. Rowling and no copyright infringement was intended in the creation of this fan fiction.  
> 

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=vhriqa)

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      The ancestral home for the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black is located inconspicuously in the muggle neighborhood in the Borough of Islington, London a few short blocks from Kings Cross Station. I say inconspicuously, because you won't be finding the address of 12 Grimmauld Place on any map, Muggle or Magical. You see, Sirius Black's father, Orion Black, made the seven story London townhouse unplottable and placed Muggle Repellent Wards to keep those pesky Muggles away. The local Muggles have long since accepted the mistake in numbering which landed number 13 next to number 11.

      Additional security measures were put in place at the beginning of the Second Wizarding War when it became Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, by Albus Dumbledore. Grimmauld Place is hidden even from most Wizardkind because it is under the Fidelius Charm, and Albus Dumbledore was the Secret Keeper. However, upon his death, Dumbledore did not name a new Secret Keeper, instead all who knew the location prior to his death became keeper of the location.

      This was a frightening thought, especially to the ex-Auror Alastor Moody, whose token phrase was, "Constant vigilance". Too many people knew the location of Headquarters and having too many loose tongues could get you and your loved ones killed. So, Moody, placed a Tongue-Tying Curse on all those aware of the secret, so as no one could reveal the location of Headquarters for the Order. But there was still one more loose end to be tied up, and that was one member, Severus Snape, murderer of Albus Dumbledore and double crosser of the Light. Constant vigilance, added yet another ward to the townhouse; a spectral dust-form of Dumbledore guards the entrance to Grimmauld Place and would not allow entrance until a variation of the key words, kill or murder, was spoken. Like most private residences, and public businesses, wards against Apparating and Disapparating are also in place.

      It is for these protections, that Harry Potter found himself standing across the street of 12 Grimmauld Place nervously fidgeting with his hair, glasses, or raggedy clothes. It has only been two weeks since the Battle of Hogwarts, two weeks since Harry Potter killed Voldemort, two weeks since the Second Wizarding War has ended, and only two weeks since Harry Potter was hailed The Boy Who Lived Twice, Destroyer of Lord Voldemort, Savior and Hero of the Wizarding World. The press has been hounding him for an interview, stalking his every move, taking pictures of him everywhere. It has only been two weeks and there is no end to the celebrations in the streets, and the constant owls asking him to attended. Harry had even more press and people fawning over him than he did before.

      Harry wasn't in the mood for celebrations and parties. He wanted peace and quiet. In the last week Harry has gone to five funerals and the new Minister of Magic, and old friend Kingsley Shacklebolt thinks it would be good press for him to go to even more. Well, Harry has had enough of public events and paparazzi. It's been two weeks since the deaths of Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Fred Weasley, and Collins Creevey, (The flash of creevey's camera would have been the only welcome paparazzi for Harry's state of mind) and all Harry Potter wanted to do was find somewhere quiet to grieve.

      Which is why Harry was standing across the street of Grimmauld Place, because the press couldn't find him there. Sure, the rest of the Weasley's, Hermione, Kingsley and a few other surviving members of the Order could find him there, if he wanted them there. He didn't. He wanted to be left alone for a while, which is why when Harry got inside he was going to go to the big fireplace in the parlor on the first floor and close the Floo Network and house wards to all those not related by blood. With a wry smile Harry thought that would be easy, seeing as he is the last of the Potter's and Petunia Dursley née Evans and her big fat pig of a son, and his cousin, Dudley wouldn't be able to find this place anyway. 

      Yet Harry hesitated taking the last steps across the street. At the moment Grimmauld Place meant sanctuary but It also was the house Sirius Black loathed. As a child Sirius ran away to stay with Harry's father, James, because he couldn't stand living there. His mother Walburga Black blasted his face off the family tree, but his father Orion Black didn't disinherit him so that after his parents and brothers death, Sirius inherited the ancestral home and the Black vaults in Gringotts Bank, which in turn were willed to Harry. After he escaped Azkaban, after twelve years in prison for a crime he didn't commit without trial, he then spent two years locked away in in this grim old place for what was left of his life.  'Twelve years in prison, sentenced to death, then stuck at 12 Grimmauld Place until his death, never a free man. What a cosmic joke' Harry thought.

      Harry choked on his grief as he thought about his godfather, ‘His life was wasted…his death was pointless…Sirius!’ Harry’s right hand was clenched into a white knuckled fist at his side, his left hand rising to his face, and his shoulders shook. ‘It’s my entire fault you’ve died… Merlin you were only, what? 36 years old? If I hadn’t been so reckless…If I had taken those Occlumency lessons seriously, I would have known it was a trap…maybe…’

      Life was too short for what ifs and maybes. Harry didn’t survive his entire adolescence fighting a deranged murderer focused on world dominance and immortality, like some 1980 Muggle super villain. Harry certainly hadn’t survived a war, the killing curse twice, to wallow in self-pity. ‘I should see a psychologists, or a Mind Healer? -No’ With a shake of his head, Harry nixed that thought before it could take serious root. That’s all he needed, that damned Rita Skeeter getting a hold of that story. Harry could read the headline now. HARRY POTTER THE BOY WHO LIVED TWICE, ADMITTED INTO A PSYCH WARD AT ST. MUNGOS, with a moving photograph of himself in a white straitjacket. ‘There you go again, Harry. Your Muggle roots are showing. Wizardkind would just use a Full Body Bind curse.

      Harry didn't want to think about the war, he didn't want to think about the future, because then he would just think about all the deaths, and how everyone that has ever cared for him has died. After a long moment of just standing there staring out into the townhouses in front of him, a car horn brought Harry out of that downhill spiral. Harry didn’t want to go into that house, but he couldn’t join in the happy celebrations going on around London. He couldn’t go back to the Weasley’s; it was too depressing with the death of Fred looming over everyone’s head. He didn't want to go with Hermione to Australia looking for her parents after she Obliviated them in order to protect them from the fallout of the war. It was peaceful at Shell Cottage, maybe he should go there, but it wasn't untouched by the war; Dobby was buried on the beach after he saved everyone's life at Malfoy Manor.

      Where else could he go? He sure as hell wasn’t going back to the Dursley’s. Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley could all go to hell in a hand-basket. A simple handshake and a flippant comment by Dudley, “I don’t think you’re a waste of Space,” does not make a house a home in Harry’s book. What did Dumbledore think he was doing, “as long as you can call your aunts house home…” ‘Bullshite!’ The Dursley never made Harry feel at home. Maybe he could make a home for himself, find someone to settle down, have a family all his own. ‘Maybe I can make Grimmauld place a home,’ Harry mussed as he waited for traffic to clear so he could reach the as of yet, nonexistent wrought iron gate surrounding the tiny steps leading to the front door of the townhouse. Either way Harry couldn’t stay out here on the street, someone was bound to have followed him. Some investigative journalist was probably even now taking his picture. It was bad enough before the Battle of Hogwarts with his ‘misplaced’ fame for surviving the Killing Curse and now, after he actually killed the greatest Dark Lord of all times and survived the killing Curse, again; he is even more famous. He just wanted to be Harry, unimportant, unspectacular Harry. Just Harry.

      Stepping up off the street, Harry watched as magically 11 and 13 Grimmauld Place were shoved out of the way and a seven story townhouse, with soot covered brick walls, and moth eaten curtains appeared out of thin air. “I love magic!” Harry exclaimed out loud. Then a flick of a curtain showed out of the second floor right window, a wrinkly old hook noose, shallow eyes, and giant leather bat wing ears briefly appeared through a gap in the curtains; Kreacher, Harry Potter’s batty old House-elf was in residence. With a tightening of the lines around his mouth and a hard glint in his eyes, Harry Potter opened the gate and took the six steps up to the front door with only a silver snake knocker, doorbell, and no doorknob. The door opened ominously on its own into a dark hallway, which matched Harry’s mood perfectly.

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\------

      The front door opened soundlessly, revealing the ground floor, what once had been a grand entranceway, high ceilings décor with carved wooden serpents, complete with an overhead chandelier, but came into disrepair after the death of Walburga Black, leaving a poor and dusty echo of what was once the proud ancestral home to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. The walls of the long hallway were lit with poorly dusted gas lamps, to show peeling wallpaper, and carpets worn thin. Grimy portraits hung on the walls, the most prominent is an enormous portrait of Walburga Black, stuck to the wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm, and covered with a heavy curtain to try to contain her erratic screaming when disturbed. Opposite of Mrs. Black’s Portrait was the extravagant dining room; filled with a long wooden table that sat twenty or more guests, a large china cabinet proudly portraying the Black family crest and china. Above the dining room table hung long hanging light fixtures.

      Harry knew that across from the bathroom, the door at the far end of the entrance hall was a small stone stairwell that led to the large basement, with the kitchen, pantry, cold storage, boiler room, and Kreacher's tiny den. Harry loves cooking when not forced to do so for the Dursley’s, but at that moment the kitchen had sad memories of the time when the Order used it for headquarters, and a time when half the members were still alive. He didn’t need to go down there to know the layout. The kitchen was a cavernous room with a large fireplace at the far end and Iron pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, and a long wooden table sat in the middle of the room which served as the heart of the Order of the Phoenix meetings.

      As Harry took a step into the entrance hall and shut the door behind him the spectral dust-form of Albus Dumbledore materializes in a whirlwind of dirt and wind. The sound coming out of his mouth sounds eerie like the rasping sound of a Dementor, or the last dying breaths of a man.

      “Sssseeeevvverus!” The dusty image of Dumbledore is advancing on Harry. Forgetting momentarily Moody's "constant vigilance," Harry let out a startled shout backing up against the closed door behind him, yet remembering to get his wand raised. With a selected curse Harry mentally kicked himself before he remembered how to deactivate the curse Moody put in place as a defense mechanism for Grimmauld Place. Voice frantic and high with nerves, Harry shouts,

      “I DID NOT KILL YOU!” knees going weak and body feeling the emotional exhaustion dragging Harry down, Harry sinks to the ground, dust everywhere in the air and on his ragged thread worm clothes. He sat in the entrance and cried all the tears he was never allowed to cry while an abused, starved, and neglected child at the Dursley’s, or at school because Gryffindors are brave, or at the funerals of his dead friends from the Second Wizarding War just days before. All the sadness just weighing him down like a ton of bricks without any magic to ease the load, he sinks into grief, loneliness, and worse of all, guilt.

      And suddenly, Harry was angry. He felt as if the Horcrux in Salazar Slytherin’s locket was still hanging around his neck, choking off his air like it choked off his happiness, until all he felt was the pain of living while his friends were dead. Looking up from behind his knees, crouched down on the floor against the front door and saw next to the entrance stood the stupid umbrella stand made from the stump of a troll’s foot that Nymphadora Tonks kept tripping over every time she walked through that door. She was such a klutz, always tripping over everything even air itself. Harry knew that her power as a Metamorphmagus threw off her equilibrium mid-walk and that is why she was always falling, but still.

      He remembered how much she loved her husband, Remus Lupin. Even when he tried every excuse for her to give up on him; he was a werewolf and he was too old for her, but she never did give up on their relationship. And their newborn son… “oh Merlin, Teddy!” Harry shouted, barely able to hear himself over the screaming of Mrs. Black’s portrait, admittedly who has been making a ruckus since he stepped in the door. But Harry could care less, he was too lost in his grief. How could he forget that he was named godfather? Teddy is little more than a month old and now he was orphaned, growing up to never now his birth parents. Teddy is just like Harry. “Just like me…”

      Just then the floodgates opened, releasing all of Harry’s suppressed emotions, like a dam after a storm. It has only been two weeks since the Battle of Hogwarts and Harry have gone to five funerals of dear friends of his, and the Ministry of Magic wanted him to make an appearance at several others. With an anguished scream, Harry pulled out the Hawthorn and Unicorn Hair wand that once belonged to Draco Malfoy and blew up the umbrella stand. Several portraits were also destroyed in the process, which caused Mrs. Black to scream louder. Somehow in all that chaos Harry was able to make out a small movement out of his peripheral vision.

      “Master Harry be destroying Mistresses things, filthy half-breed master be ruinses the house” Kreacher croaked out. Twirling on his heels, head cocked, teeth bared, and wand raised in his right hand, Harry saw Kreacher standing on the first landing of the grand stairwell directly across from the front door. On the wall meeting the stairs, shrunken house-elf heads were mounted on the wall on plaques. Harry thinks, 'So you believe it is an honor to join your fellow loyal house-elves mounted heads on the wall like trophy's? Well, kreacher, one thing you are not, is loyal.' Suddenly Harry sees red and could not think of the tentative truce between house-elf and master, that had so briefly developed while looking for Horcruxes and on the run. All Harry could think about was all the wrongs Kreacher has caused Sirius:

      Kreacher disrespecting Sirius. Kreacher calling Sirius a blood traitor. Kreacher revealing confidential Order of the Phoenix secrets to Death Eaters. Kreacher maiming Buckbeak to get Sirius out of the room, while Harry firecalled hoping that his dreams were a lie, that Sirius was safe. Kreacher lying to Harry, saying Sirius was not at home. Harry rushing to the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic trying to rescue Sirius from Voldemort to discover it’s a trap. Sirius leaving the safety of Grimmauld Place to rescue Harry. The Battle at the Ministry of Magic. Bellatrix Lestrange dueling her own cousin, Sirius. Sirius being stunned and falling through the Veil. Sirius’s death without a body, but knowing he is dead. Witnessing the unbelievable moment of brief happiness of having a family, ripped from Harry’s grasp. Not having a funeral. The reading of Sirius’s will by Albus Dumbledore. Sirius being cleared of all charges by the Ministry, too little too late. All he could think of at that moment was Sirius.

      Sirius, Sirius, Sirius…

      Harry’s godfathers name drumming in his ears, Mrs. Black screaming, Kreacher’s wailing. Its too much. The sounds echo off the walls of Grimmauld Place, inside Harry’s Skull.

      “Avada Kedavra!” The first killing curse shoots out of the Hawthorn wand for Harry as it couldn’t do for Draco, unwilling to step over that last line into darkness. The green stream bounces off the mirror behind Kreacher’s head, comes hurling back towards Harry, narrowly missing him, but hits the portrait of Mrs. Black, and the frame falls off the wall blessingly silent.

      “Avada Kedavra!” The second green stream hits its mark, and Kreacher tumbed down the stairs to land face up, empty eyes staring. Harry's erratic breathing slowed down. He stared down at the lifeless form of the house-elf cruelly named Kreacher, and said:

      “Dobby?!”

\------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have questions about the direction of this story? Leave a comment and I'll give hints. Like what you read, leave Kudos.  
> Stay Awesome!  
> Sincerely_Devra
> 
> \------


	2. Funerals and Trials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa and Draco go to a funeral and then turn themselves in to face trial for war crimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wonderful World of Harry Potter, the characters and images all belongs to the amazing mind of J.K. Rowling and no copyright infringement was intended in the creation of this fan fiction.  
> \------

      The two Malfoy's, mother and son, stood slightly apart from the cortège of mourners gathered in the early dawn on the seventh of May. It has only been six days since the Battle of Hogwarts ended and the families of the dead gathered to pay their final respects of two young lives ended too soon. The first grave was that of Vincent Crabbe, the pine box being lowered into the earth, empty; the remains of his body unrecognizable amongst the ashes and carnage wrought by fiendfyre. The second grave was of Gregory Goyle who committed suicide the following day.

      Draco Malfoy wore all black as he stood by his mother's side. His dressrobes were custom tailored to fit his tall, slim and lithe frame to perfectly accent his broad shoulders and tapered waist. His back was iron straight and his shoulders stiff. His pale complexion stood out in stark contrast from his all black attire, from his white blonde hair, moon-glow skin, and stormy gray eyes.

      Narcissa Malfoy née Black stood tall and willowy by her son's side, her attire all in black save a white and yellow gold broach at the hollow of her throat, a flower in the shape of her namesake. She stood stiffly and on guard. As her son, her complexion was pale like white porcelain, hair like fine silver, and eyes a pale and glacial blue.

      Many people would have said the Malfoy heir was a more youthful version of his father, Lucius Malfoy, but they would be wrong. Standing shoulder to shoulder as mother and son stood now, it was undeniable the likeness. They both shared the same aristocratic high brows, sharp cheekbones, with a pointy nose and chin.

      Said chins were raised high as judgmental eyes were upon them. They came uninvited and unwelcome; Mrs. Goyle and Mrs. Crabbe blamed Draco for their son's deaths and Narcissa for betraying the Dark Lord at the crucial moment in the war which ended in his defeat. The rest of the cortège stood equally quiet in their hostility, the reason for their silence due to the presents of two scarlet robed Aurors standing stoic in the background. After they pay their final respects, the Malfoy's are going to turn themselves in, turning over evidence against known Death Eaters and their accomplices. The Malfoy's decision would have lasting percussions on all gathered; some of whom were innocent, staying neutral during the war, while others had either taken the dark mark, or are the spouses or children of Death Eaters.

      One of these betrayals was that of Lucius Malfoy, as they would no longer honor the sacred rhetoric, "honor thy husband and thy father" and turn over information in regards to Lucius Malfoy’s activities during the Second Wizarding War. Misguided loyalty to husband and father got them into this bloody mess and even though they too will stand trial for war crimes, they will make sure Lucius Malfoy would never breathe fresh air as a free man again. It was a promise they made to themselves while they were being held hostage in their own home by a deranged murderer.

      Narcissa and Draco held no disillusionment about their welcome; their grudging truce will expire the moment the final grain of dirt lands on the freshly turned graves. The Aurors would be the only ones standing between them and their certain death, as the Malfoy's had no wands to protect them. Draco's Hawthorn and Dragon Heartstring wand forfeited to Harry Potter, and Narcissa's wand, Holly with Dragon Heartstring, given to Draco, was destroyed in the very same fiendfyre that Crabbe met his demise in. Even if they did make it out of the trials unimpeded, they will no long be welcome in pureblood social circles.

      Draco would not have called Crabbe and Goyle close friends, although they spent over ten years together, they were not on first name basis. Their families had arranged their meetings pre-Hogwarts years, with clear expectations. Malfoy’s do not have friends they have people indebted to them. Draco had an arrangement with them; they would be Draco's lackeys and bodyguards, and in return Draco would help them pass their classes and get better than Troll on their OWLs and NEWTs. Draco remembered that Severus had given Crabbe and Goyle detention the first day of sixth year for not passing Potions to move onto NEWT level class. Either way, Draco owed some kind of responsibility to the two boys who would never grow into men and gain their inheritance; they chose to follow Draco and died because of it.

      The only two people that Draco considered close friends and confidants would be Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zambini. Blaise’s family is neutral, and while Pansy’s family was sympathetic to the cause, their self-preservation was high and would wait and see. They too, were attendees to Crabbe and Goyal’s funeral but they didn't even acknowledge Draco and his mother. They couldn't risk being associated with them at the moment, in fear of becoming social outcasts or worse death. With their friendship estranged as it is, would it even be possible to continue their friendship in secret?

      “It’s time to go, Petit Dragon.” Narcissa said as she gently led her son to the two graves, picking up first one handful of dirt and then another, she loosened her fingers over each grave. Draco, following his mother’s lead, grabbed his own handfuls and watched as the last particles of dirt fluttered to the ground, soundlessly putting the boys he once knew to rest. And thought, ‘It was my job to make sure you two finished school, and now because you loyally followed me, neither one of you would ever finish. I’m sorry. Goodbye.’

      As he turned from the two graves he caught out of his peripheral vision, Blaise clutch Pansy around the shoulders in a hug, tears glistened in Pansy brown eyes as she clenched one fist to her heart, before smoothing her fingers and patting her chest twice, Blaise mirroring the move. And with that single gesture, unobserved by the rest, Draco knew that his friendship was intact. Narcissa didn’t say a single word as she walked with grace up the pebbled pathway to the waiting Aurors, even as Mrs. Crabbe short and stocky like her dead son spat on the hem of her long fortuny black skirt as she passed. The only incitation that she was aware of the insult was a tightening of her hand upon Draco’s shoulder in a silent command, ‘don’t engage.’

      The rest of the mourners watched as the Aurors each grabbed one of the Malfoy’s elbows and disapperated away with a red, black, and white swirl of colors bleeding into each other, and a sharp resounding, CRACK.

\------

      Narcissa Malfoy now wore gray. Her hair hung loose at her waist, a hair style she hadn’t worn since her Hogwarts days. Her eyes looked impossibly big, with ashen skin and dark smudges under her eyes from lack of sleep. She and her son, practically blended into the small washed out white room with a blessedly en suite half-bath, in the Ministry. It has been two weeks since the Aurors took them away and placed them there.

      Really, they couldn’t complain as they could be in an Azkaban prison cell awaiting trial for being war criminals, but instead they were provided with three (questionable and near inedible) meals a day, a small double (lumpy and uncomfortable) cot to share, and clean (chafing) clothes. It was the bare necessities but anything was better than one uncertain meal a day, no cot, no shower, and Dementors as their guards. It gave Narcissa a warm feeling inside knowing that her husband was in Azkaban while his wife and son where here.

      Tired of sitting, Narcissa was pacing the small and cramped room. The cot was currently occupied by her son, in much need of sleep after another round of intense questioning by the Aurors. The questioning was ruthless, the Aurors digging for every detail portraying to Death Eaters waiting to be tried, or possible locations for those in hiding. The first thing Draco did was relay information for spies in the Ministry of Magic; he didn’t want his mother and he assassinated in their sleep, thank you very much. Then he gave access to Malfoy’s Manor, with himself tagging along, of course; to take out all dark artifacts. It had been a grueling ordeal, any discomforts ignored in the whirlwind of information gathering.

      Now that the information was dwindling, Narcissa could feel herself becoming more and more aggravated; the confined space pressing in on her enhanced senses. Narcissa was always proud of her inheritance; confident in her creatures’ blood, but now her instincts were working against her. She didn’t do well in confine spaces. A rustling sound of fabric drew her attention away from her mounting discomforts.

      “Mother?” Draco said groggily. Her son, though still youthful no longer looked like a boy. He lay on the double cot head still on the pillow, one leg bent at the knee. One hand was still limp hanging off the side of the cot, the other hand reaching up to push his white blonde locks off his forehead. He sat up swinging both legs around to land silently on the ground.

      “Mon Petit Dragon, rest. You had only a couple hours of sleep” Narcissa gently chastised her son.

“I have to give you a report on what happened at the Manor and Gringotts.”

      “Now you sound like those Aurors, always talking about reports” Obviously this was a routine mother and son had to deal with since there stay at the Ministry. First Draco would go in for questioning for hours on end, while Narcissa stayed behind, then he’d come back to this room with an Auror escort to sleep. When he got up they would talk about the investigation. They never talked about what happens in the future. Then the Aurors would come and take Narcissa in for questioning as well.

      “Yes, but this time it affects us more than just compiling evidence against Father and the others.” He paused,” Mother come sit down next to me”. So, Narcissa complied, still managing to look elegant and graceful even without thousand galleon worth of fine dressrobes and French dresses. Draco took a deep and shaky breath, and Narcissa knew something was the matter if her son was this physically shaken up that his perfect Malfoy mask slipped.

      “We went to the Manor. The Aurors took and categorized every dark artifact they could find; I helped break some curses on them. I found Father’s hidden ledgers. Mother… Father is involvement in the war even more extensively than we could have imagined. I found some discrepancies and went to Gringotts to try to resolve them. ”

      Draco sat elbows to knees and hands clasped together, with his head bowed as if in prayer. But Draco was not praying; he was seething. He glared over the top of his hands, before he glanced over at his mother. “There was an issue with the vaults. You see…father gave access to the Dark Lord and he was slowly siphoning funds into his own vaults. I went over the ledgers, it’s almost all gone. That leach was bleeding Father dry. I would say good riddance but that money was rightfully ours. There is barely anything left, how we live now the gold would run out before the year is up.”

      Narcissa was floored, they couldn’t be broke. “What about my inheritance, my dowry, the vault I was given when I turned eighteen, and when I married. Or the gold willed to me from my parents after their deaths?”

      “Father combined your vaults with the Malfoy vaults after I was born. He took advantage of a loophole in your prenuptial…” Draco trailed off as Narcissa bolted up from the cot, growling in her displeasure.

      “That bastard! Those were mine, to be untouched. That goes against the prenuptial contract. The Goblins couldn’t have done that without written permission and my magical signiture.”

      Draco unclasped his hands and let them hang loosely between his knees and looked up at his mother lost; speaking as if from a daze, “After we questioned it, the Goblins discovered the loophole in the contract, they didn’t question combining the vaults then, because Father presented forged documents with a sample of your magic. It was too easy. And then the Dark Lord turned around and stole the Malfoy’s wealth.”

      Narcissa didn’t know what to do without any gold, she never held a job before, and how would she be able to maintain her lifestyle. Merlin, how would Draco take loosing his inheritance. No, no, Draco didn’t deserve any of this. All she ever wanted was him safe. Desperate she grasped at straws, “My sister, Bellatrix, if she dies without a will, her vaults would liquidate back into the Black’s vaults…”

      Draco shook his head at his mother, “That’s a moot point, she was a known Death Eater, had numerous acts of treason and murder against her. Her vaults would have been seized, if they were not already being transferred to the Dark Lord's vaults. Also she died in a Wizards duel. Her possessions would go to the victor, that’s Molly Weasley.

      Narcissa was still pacing, now biting at her thumbnail, “Okay, but can’t the Ministry just retrieve the stolen gold?”

      Draco let out a breath as he stood up to placed his hands on his mother’s thin shoulders. ‘how did his mother get so small, her shoulders use to hold so much weight.’ He spoke carefully, “look Mother, the Malfoy vaults are not empty, they are still ours, and royalties are still coming in from generations of investments. Any illegitimate businesses will be shut down and those royalties will cease, but we still own multiple properties; the Manor in Wiltshire and the Villa in France, in addition to some Shopfronts in Diagon Ally. I could talk to the goblins again, but they say they will have to get ahold of the new owner of the vaults. The Dark Lord was killed in a Wizarding duel, so all his properties and Gringotts vaults belong to the victor.”

      His mother just looked at her son for a moment. “Are you telling me that our money now belongs to Harry Potter?”

      “Yes,” Draco smirked lost in thoughts of the enigma that is Harry Potter. Draco has always wanted to know him, to understand him, and be close to him. But his father stood in the way. So, instead he taunted and teased him. Harry was slow to temper, but oh, when he is angry, his magic flares deliciously. Draco loved angering him, and he did it perfectly, his friends made perfect targets.

      The Potters have always been one of the wealthiest pure-blood families, yet Harry doesn’t flaunt his wealth. He has poor fashion sense, really how can that boy wear such ugly, raggedly, and clothes too big for his tiny frame. Draco just wanted to take him shopping. His hair; such wild black locks, always looked like he just rolled out of bed, or had a nice rough shag. Oh and his eyes, perfect emeralds, his round black rim spectacles actually magnifying them. Oh how he dreams about those eyes…

       “Draco, mon petit, you’re drooling.” His mother’s voice interrupted his thoughts before his fantasies could get too explicit. Oh merlin, he WAS drooling. How embarrassing to be caught in a day dream about Harry, a boy, by his mother. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and glanced at his mother.

      Narcissa was well aware of her son’s infatuation with Potter. She maybe even encouraged it at times in Draco’s pre-Hogwarts days, purchasing him books about the mysterious savior who survived the Killing Curse, vanquished the Dark Lord, then mysteriously disappeared from Wizarding society. She would often walk by her son’s rooms and hear him talking passionately to his house-elf Dobby, who was assigned to take care of him, when he wasn’t with his tutors, learning French and Latin, accounting and business, mathematics, dark magic and potions, and Quidditch. Narcissa suspects it was Draco who had Dobby trying to protect Harry Potter during his second year. It was also Draco who instructed Dobby to rescue the prisoners in the makeshift cells in the cellar.

      Draco never talked about his infatuation with Harry Potter with Crabbe and Goyle, too afraid that it would get back to his father. He learned that lesson, painfully, with a canning to show for his efforts. Her little Dragon never spoke of Harry Potter in a positive light ever again. The first Hogwarts Express train ride, Draco was nearly late boarding having nearly waited too long to catch a glimpse of the infamous boy. It was a habit her Little Dragon did every start of term. She could sense his hurt and embarrassment when Harry rejected his hand on the first Hogwarts Express ride. Oh, he tried to hide it, just like he tried to hide it when his innocent infatuation turned lustful his fourth year at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament; an Alpha's nose never lies. It's a good thing Lucius is a simple Beta, else he would have been able to sense Draco's feelings a long time ago. After all, Draco always managed to talk about Harry Potter in his father's presents, just not quite in the way Draco would have liked.

      “Potter really is the perfect little Gryffindor, brave and honorable. Perhaps it wouldn’t take much convincing for him to turn over the gold that rightfully belongs to us, Mother. If we, I mean you show him the ledgers and the invoice from the Goblins, he would do it.”

      “And, why don’t you ask Potter for help yourself, Mon petit? Still afraid of his rejection and disapproval, hmm? Narcissa hummed, hugging her son. Such misplaced cowardness and guilt her son had. So afraid of getting his heart crushed again.

       “I’m not getting out of Azkaban, Mother, you are? I’m doing all this cooperating to get you a lighter sentence."  
Draco kept talking over his mother, “Oh Mon Petit Dragon, no…”

      “I’m guilty, your innocent. I have the mark, I let the Death Eaters into the Castle. I am responsible for Dumbledore’s death…”

      “Well, well, well. Look what we have here boys, a confession. And just in time for the trial. Now we get to see why Minister Shacklebolt is giving these two Death Eater scum special treatment.” Three scarlet clad Aurors stood outside the usually closed transparent barrier that separated the white room from the rest of the Ministry building.

      “Let’s go, now.”  
\------

      Criminal trials in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement are held in the basement level of the Ministry of Magic beneath London. The accused are held secure in chained chairs in the center of a giant colosseum like hexagon chamber where fifty members of the Wizengamot sit above on benches, wearing plum colored robes with giant silver “W” embroidered on their chests. Along with the Judge, Prosecutor, Jurors, and Scribe; the Chief Warlock, the Head of the Wizengamot, and the Minister of Magic reside. Most trials are brief and concise, where the accused may present witnesses to be questioned by the Prosecutor.

      On 26 May, nearly three weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, the Malfoy’s were finally being tried for war crimes during the Second Wizarding War. Unlike Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy was held in Azkaban until the trial and looked a right mess. He was chained head to foot with harsh iron chains. His usual long silver hair was gray and matted; every available skin showing was bruised, bloody, and filthy, from scratching at his skin or beating himself against the floor and walls of his dark, dank, and disgusting cell. His face already looked like it was skeletal with eyes popped wide and reeling, like a crazed horse. Although his mouth was moving up and down, obviously shouting, his voice was mute. His clothing was ripped, darkly stained, and smelly. His feet were bare and bruised with frostbite. 

      On one side of Lucius, Narcissa sat poised at the end of her seat, legs crossed at the ankles, arms bound by a simple flimsy shackle. Although she still wore the same gray attire as husband and son, her and her son’s garments were at least clean, void of stains, and on her dainty feet, clean slippers. Draco sat on the other side of his father, also only held to his chair by shackles on his wrists. His hair was clean with a slight fringe covering one eye that if his arms were free, would have swept it back behind one ear. He sat legs slightly apart with his back straight, shoulders back, and head held high. He was going to take the Wizengamot verdict with no complaint. Still, Draco could barely breathe with the weight of so many eyes upon him. He was so focused on trying to keep the Malfoy mask in place, poised and composed. ‘Don’t let them see how afraid you truly are. Show no emotion. Accept whatever punishment they throw at you, no matter what people say, it can always be worse.’

      Draco was so focused on his inner monologue, that he missed the opening speech of the Head of the Wizengamot and the Prosecutor. “Dammit, now I don’t know the names of the people who have my and my mother’s life in their hands.” As far Draco could care, his father, Lucius could rot in hell.

      “Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot, and fellow peers on the jury today; let us make the trial brief for the accused. Over the last couple weeks, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement has been collecting vital evidence, for this case. We have presented to you all the facts. Now is the time for the accused to be read their charges, the accused will plead their cases and bring forth witnesses on their behalf. Usually, a few select members of the Wizengamot would then question the accused, but seeing how we had full cooperation from two of the three Malfoy's, this step will be passed over. Finally, the Wizengamot will come to a vote, and each of the three accused will be given their verdict. Let’s begin.” Draco was relieved that the trial would be short. He only had one thing to say in his defense, he knew his guilt and accepted it.

       “Lucius Abraxas Malfoy.” Draco couldn’t help it and held his breath, you are accused of High Treason, murder, being a Death Eater, supporting the Death Eater Regime, Imperiusing members of the Wizengamot and other Ministry officials, blackmailing said members, aiding and abetting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, using the Malfoy Manor as headquarters for the Death Eaters Regime, funding the Death Eater Regime, torture, kidnapping…” The Prosecutor paused in his reading as if amused, “fraud, tax evasion, and embezzlement.” He tacked on at the end. Draco smirked at the listing of his father's crimes, knowing that he helped bring evidence for many of those charges against him and many other Death Eaters.

      “Narcissa Malfoy née Black,” The Prosecutor began, “You are accused of aiding and abetting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Death Eaters, hosting Death Eater meetings in your home, and being married to a Death Eater.” Draco didn’t even think that last one was a crime, and looking at his mother, he thinks she thought the same thing. ‘What is that it?’ Draco might be able to get his mother off after all.

      “Draco Lucius Malfoy,” the Prosecutor began, “You are charged with being a Death Eater, letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, aiding and abetting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, attending Death Eater meetings, attempted murder, Imperiusing a student, poisoning a student, purchasing a dark artifact and using a Cursed Necklace on a fellow student.” Draco wanted to slump in his chair, he didn’t mean to curse Katie Bell or Poison the Weasel. He was trying to finish the task for the Dark Lord by killing Dumbledore, before the Dark Lord killed him and his mother. Fixing the Vanishing Cabinet and letting Death Eaters into the Castle was a crucial part of completing the task, but as time went by he got more desperate and reckless. Many innocent people were harmed that night. He deeply regretted his involvement in the war.

      “Now that the criminal charges have been read to all the accussed, let us move on. How do you plead, Lucius Malfoy?”

      The Voice Muting Jinx was removed and Lucius screamed out his insanity, “THE DARK LORD SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU ALL! MUDBLOOD LOVING TRAITORS TO WIZARDKIND, ALL OF YOU! I WILL BE OUT AGAIN! WATCH ME…” the Head of the Wizengamot banged his hammer three times, and the Jinx was placed back on him.

      “Narcissa Malfoy, how do you plead?” The Prosecutor sounded almost kind. ‘What is going on?’

      “Guilty” Narcissa said clearly and coolly.

      “Draco Malfoy, how do you plead?” No emotion for Draco on the Prosecutors part.

      “Guilty as well, your honor.” Humility never hurt anyone.

       The Prosecutor went on with the trial. “Now for testimony by the accused, Mr. Malfoy?” Draco startled, “The elder.”      

       Lucius Malfoy once more had the Voice Muting Jinx removed. His head was thrown back and his voice echoed in the chamber, “DEATH!” The jinx was immediately put back on him, with only that one word testimony, clearly it was going to spill into another rant.

      “Narcissa?” Draco was thoroughly confused, ‘first name basis, did the Prosecutor know his mother?’

       “I have nothing to say to defend myself,” Narcissa began, “I am the wife of a Death Eater, this very man before you now. I lived in his house, Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire. I did everything I could to please him, trying to be a perfect wife. I gave birth to his heir, my only child, also here before you. I hosted elaborate parties and joined my husband, as is my duty, in all his social gatherings and yes, those included Death Eater meetings. After my husband’s arrest when he broke into the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic, he left me and my son defenseless in our own home, because the Dark Lord made the Manor headquarters. We no longer felt safe in our own home and were being held hostage there.” Narcissa paused there, to add dramatics to her story or to clear the lump in her throat, Draco had no idea. But then she spoke again, and Draco was sure he couldn’t speak even if given the chance. His mother was using her testimony to defend him.

       “Upon my sons sixteenth birthday, he was forced to take the Dark Mark, with an assignment to finish his initiation into the ranks. He was given two tasks to complete before he finished the school year. The first was to repair a Vanishing Cabinet somewhere in the school, to link it with its pair in a shop in Nocturne Ally; from there Death Eaters could then enter Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The second task was to kill the Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. I was aware of both tasks.” Narcissa continued in a rush to implore the Wizengamot. “But my son is not evil, he is not a murderer. He couldn’t do it. I did everything in my power to make sure that Draco wouldn’t have to live with the stain of blood on his hands. I went to Severus Snape, Draco’s godfather.”

      All Draco could do was listen. He wanted to tell his mother to stop; she was testifying on her own behalf not his. It was fruitless, he was guilty. But she continued to talk and Draco didn’t dare interrupt or else risk the Wizengamot ending the words of her final tesimony. “With my sister, Bellatrix as Conductor, I made an Unbreakable Vow with Severus”. Draco did not know about this part of the story, and wondered if it was true, or if his mother was lying to protect him. “The Unbreakable Vow guaranteed Severus would do everything in his power to protect my son, and if my son could not finish the task set for him by the Dark Lord, then Severus would do it for him. And he did. Severus killed Albus Dumbledore.”  Narcissa leaned back slightly, uncrossing then crossing her ankles on the other side. “My son finished the first task, yes, but under duress. I was held hostage at the Manor, I couldn’t escape, and my son feared I would be killed. My son could be accused of a lot of things, but heartless is not one of them.” Narcissa head was held high, and she looked every member of the Wizengamot in the eye. She would not back down. The charges against here son was damning. For some reason Narcissa and her son were given some leniency before the trial, but surely the evidence stacked against her son…   

      Draco was in a stupor, with the last breath of her testimony Narcissa was pleading with the Juriors, not for herself but for him. He didn’t dare look up afraid of what he’d see in the Wizengamot. Would they be in awe, as he was? Would they be disapproving, as if it was Draco’s plan for his mother to speak on his behalf? Draco definitely did not have his Malfoy face on as he clenched his fists shackled to the arms of his chair, head bowed and eyes tightly shut trying to stay the tears that drenched his cheeks.

      “…foy? …Malfoy? Mr. Malfoy? Draco Malfoy!” Draco shocked at hearing his name being called, raised his face to reveal eyes wide and red from crying, peering out from behind a disheveled fringe over the left eye, and tears still streaming down his face. His mouth was slightly opened in an “O” shape. “Very good! Now that Mr. Malfoy has joined us on this plain of existence,” once more the Prosecutor sounded amused. “Your testimony, now!”       

       Draco shook his head once and tried unsuccessfully to blow the hair out of his eyes. He raised his head and looked no one else in the eye, except the Prosecutor, straightening his shoulders, he declared clearly if not a little raspy from crying, “I’m guilty. I do not pretend to be otherwise. The chargers against me are all true; I have the Dark Mark, I am a Death Eater. Those two actions have single handedly become the things I regret the most in my life thus far. My actions as a Death Eater has caused harm to a great deal of people. In trying to complete the tasks set to me by the Dark Lord, I used the Imperius Curse on Katie Bell, trying to have her deliver a Cursed Necklace to Katie Bell and was gravely injured and could have died. Ronald Weasley consumed the poison Mead meant as a Christmas present for Dumbledore; if it wasn’t for the quick thinking of Harry Potter, his friend would be dead. On the night of Dumbledore’s death, I finally finished repairing the Vanishing Cabinet and let Death Eaters into the Castle. I did not know the werewolf Fenrir Greyback, was among the Death Eaters who infiltrated the Castle. He repulses me. Many people were hurt that night because of my actions. Dumbledore died, I did not kill him, but I am responsible for his death.” With a last deep breath, Draco looked at his mother on the other side of his father. “I am guilty, my mother is not. I request that the Jury and the Wizengamot be kind to her.”

      That was it, his last words as a free man. He thought he heard a few sniffles in the benches above him, but couldn’t be sure over his own ragged breath. The Wizengamot was buzzing with hushed chatter, or was that just the buzzing in his ears? Draco wanted to take his sentence with dignity, but he found that he was terrified of the verdict. His breath was constricted in his chest. His breath was coming in short quick breaths.

      A banging of the hammer brought quiet to the courtroom. “Before we give a verdict it’s time to present the witnesses testimony for the accused.” Draco looked around his chained father, now laughing with no sound, to see the confusion on his mother’s face. She looked a little hopeful. ‘Oh please, don’t raise her hopes, only to crush them.’

       The Prosecutor cleared his throat gruffly and peered down at first Narcissa and then Draco, completely bypassing Lucius altogether. “A week or so ago, a letter in triplicate arrived by owl to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. So many letters had been sent to this department, vying for a conviction of the accused, that this letter was almost overlooked; except this letter was addressed directly to the Minster of Magic, the Chief Warlock, and the Head of the Wizengamot.” The Prosecutor paused in his deliverance. “written by none other than Harry Potter" Draco sucked in a sharp breath and couldn't believe what was happening. The Procecuter had to shout over the excitement in the room, "REQUESTING THE RELEASE OF DRACO AND NARCISSA MALFOY!" The chatter stopped at that announcement and the Procecuter cleared his throat, "I will now read this letter to the chamber at large.”

\------

      After the letter was read, Draco was stunned speechless. He had no words. He sat shackled by his wrists to the chair in the middle of the coliseum like chamber, with his mother also shackled by her wrists, and father completely chained from head to foot. The Wizengamot was abuzz with chatter after the letter was read. Never had he been so embarrassed in such a public setting for all the Wizarding World to bear witness. Never had he been so humbled. Why is it that only Harry Potter could bring out these feelings in him? Would one testimony against thousands be enough to save his mother and possibly himself? 

      “The Jury has come to a verdict,” the Prosecutor shouted over the noise of the Wizengamot.

       “Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, you will not be serving a life sentence in Azkaban. It is clear that you have a flair for escaping justice, so instead this courtroom has taken your own testimony into account, you will be subjected to the Dementors kiss, an act worse than death, active immediately.” The double doors at the end of the chamber opened, and a Dementor bookended by two full Patronuses, one eagle and one dove.

      The Patronuses were herding the Dementor away from the Wizengamot, then the dove swooped down to float near Narcissa, and the eagle swooped down to float over Draco. Mother and son could no longer feel the happiness seeping from their bodies; instead they basked in the warmth and tranquility offered to them. The Kiss was quick, Lucius soul being sucked from his body without a tear being shed from his wife and son. Justice has been met. Lucius Malfoy will no longer breathe air as a free man again, instead of Azkaban he will be locked in his own body. The Dementor was escorted back out of the trial room without ceremony, taking away the bonechilling fear with it.

      “Narcissa Malfoy, the Wizengamot has come to a consensus, all criminal charges are dropped, you were a victim to your husband and for that we are sorry, you are free to go home.” Narcissa was crying with gratitude as the shackles were removed from her wrists. She was smiling and crying as she rubbed blood circulation back into her hands. Draco was relieved, his mother was free.

      “Draco Lucius Malfoy, the Wizengamot has come to a consensus,” Draco couldn’t believe such a quick verdict was made after only a reading of a letter. Well almost, Bloody Saint Potter always got his way. Still he waited with halted breath, “all criminal charges have been dropped, you were a minor forced to take the Dark Mark under duress, you are free to go home.” The shackles around Draco’s wrists clanked to the floor, Draco stood up in a daze absently rubbing his wrists.

      Narcissa came running to her son, crying out with joy, “Mon petit Dragon. We are free.”

      The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, stood up from the stands above and made his lumbering way down to the crying mother and shell-shocked son. He mentally shook his head at the boy, for that was what he was, a boy not yet eighteen. ‘He convinced himself he was guilty and did not deserve forgiveness.’ Kingsley thought as he finally made it down to the chamber below. The two had not yet realized they could leave the chambers.

      Narcissa recognized him first, “Minister, thank you!”

      Draco spoke up, “We are beholden to you, Minister. Thank you for mine and Mother’s freedom.”

      “Don’t thank me, it was a unanimous decision of the Wizengamot, you two are innocent.” Kingsley chuckled but spoke seriously to them. “I understand you may not choose to stay at Malfoy Manor. And despite charges being dropped many pureblood sympathisers will be out for your blood. I will arrange an Auror escort to follow and ensure your wellbeing for the time being. Once you have your affairs in order, there might be a protected place for you to go, if you so choose.” He spoke quietly to them, and shook each of the Malfoy’s hands, inconspicuously slipping a piece of paper into their grasps. Then he walked away as if nothing happened.

      Draco heard a gasp from beside him and turned to face is mother. She was looking down at the slip of paper the Minister had given her. Looking down at his own slip of paper, he read and wondered what the words meant.

**12 Grimmauld Place**

**Secret Entrance**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm evil, I know. Bwa hahaha!
> 
> Check out the companion story in Harry Potter and the Secrets Only Blood Can Tell. It's called Pulling Strings, Behind the Scenes. 
> 
> Also, Peculiar Harry Potter (He Calls it magic) 
> 
> November 30, 2018
> 
> Quick poll for the readers: will end on December 11, 2018
> 
> Do you think the animal portrayed on each of the Founders house crest represents a Patronus or an animagus?
> 
> Reply in the comments!
> 
> Stay Awesome!


	3. Rebirth, Transformation, and Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry discovers he's not alone at 12 Grimmauld Place  
> Narcissa and Draco return to the Malfoy Manor  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wonderful World of Harry Potter, the characters and images all belongs to the amazing mind of J.K. Rowling and no copyright infringement was intended in the creation of this fan fiction.  
> 

      _“Avada Kedavra!”_

_The second green stream hits its mark, and Kreacher tumbed down the stairs to land face up, empty eyes staring. Harry's erratic breathing slowed down. He stared down at the lifeless form of the house-elf cruelly named Kreacher, and said:_

_“Dobby?!”_

\------

      Harry Potter now sat at the base of the grand staircase clutching the lifeless form of his house-elf cruelly named Kreacher, and sobbed. He sobbed for the unfairness of his childhood, thinking of all the times he was beaten, or starved, or locked in his cupboard under the stairs. Worse of all he thought of all the times when he was ignored or neglected. There were times when Harry wanted to be alone, from the abuse of the Dursley’s, or away from his friends at Hogwarts. But it was worse when all he wanted was to be surrounded by people who loved him, cared for his wellbeing, and they were gone.

      He sobbed for his parents, only twenty-one when murdered by Voldemort. He sobbed for the life he could have had. He sobbed for the responsibility placed on his shoulders at fourteen months old. He sobbed for all those brief moments of happiness at Hogwarts ripped away each year; always fighting, always surviving, always looking over his shoulder. He sobbed, because it was finally over; he survived but didn’t know how to live. He’s alive but how does he live knowing nearly everyone who cared for him is dead. Sirius, his godfather, didn’t have a chance to enjoy freedom before he was killed, locked away in Azkaban and then in his loathed childhood home. Freedom; Dobby was a freed house-elf with no master and a dozens of mix-matched socks on his feet and killed while saving Harry’s life. Tonks and Remus, whom just found each other, married, and had a baby, now killed in the war and their son is left an orphan. Collins Creevey, just sixteen and had his whole life ahead of him and that was ended like a flash of his camera.

      That’s the problem with death and murder, the unfairness of it all. Life is unfair and then you die-is that the saying? What about all the people that are forced to live through their loved ones deaths. How do they move on, can they move on, is it fair to move on with their lives? What about those you’ve harmed or killed in the war? How is murder justified?

      Harry killed Voldemort; he hunted and killed each of his soul fragments, and then killed Voldemort. Or did Voldemort Kill himself? Harry never casted the Killing Curse during the war, only disarmed. Twice; Voldemort’s curse was rebounded against himself and twice Harry survived the Killing Curse. ‘Neither shall live while the other survives.’ The problem was, Harry didn’t want to survive this last time. He was the last Horcrux; the last   fragmented soul of Voldemort lived on inside himself. In order for Voldemort to be killed, Harry had to die first. Harry had enough of standing to the side while everyone around him died. He took comfort in knowing he was going to die. Have Voldemort kill his own last soul fragment, and then Harry was going to let someone else finish him off. Harry didn’t want to kill, only disarm so someone else could kill. Harry was faced with a new conundrum; he lived when all he wanted to do was die. 

     Now it was like some cosmetic joke; Harry refused to cast the Killing Curse during the war, but now that the war was over, and he did cast it, how could he justify killing Kreacher. He murdered Kreacher, why?

      “You killed him ssso why do you cry? A hissing voice echoed in Harry’s ear and for a moment he thought it was the voice of Voldemort. Harry shook his head in denial, it couldn’t be. All the sacrifices Harry made and that monster was still taunting him in his head. But then the voice spoke again.

      “Do you have regretsss? Do you want me to bring him back? It’sss not too late.” It couldn’t be; Voldemort was not one to show compassion. Where was the voice coming from, if not his head? Looking wildly around, Harry looked for the person responsible for the voice. 

      “Where are you? Show yourself.” He shouted. A laughing hiss was his response. 

      “Massster asssksss where I am? Look around your head. I’m here.” And Harry looked at eye level to his left and was met with the wall. He turned his head to the right and all he saw was the banister of the stairs and the closed door to the bathroom.

      “I don’t see…” And Harry trailed off, because he did see. At eye level, the banister carved into an intricate serpent. Its body had moved, until its head was extended horizontally towards Harry, its tongue flicked in and out questioningly. Harry’s eyes widened and his voice croaked a little as he liked his lips and spoke, “What’s your name?”

      “Asssclepiusss, what isss Massstersss name?” the snake inquired with a hiss and inquiring flick of its forked tongue and Harry realized he was speaking parseltongue.

      “Harry, Harry Potter. Nice to meet you, Asclepius.” Harry somehow managed to croak out politely.  

      “Massster Harry Harry Potter, hmn, what an unssspectacular and ordinary name, Massster hasss” Asclepius hissed as he wound himself around the banister first one way and then the other. “sosss, Whatsss a Potter doing in the Most Ancient and Noble Houssse of Black, Massster Harry Harry Potter?”

     “It’s just Harry,” Harry instructed. “My godfather, Sirius Black was the last male decedent of the Black line. When he died without an heir, he willed it to me instead of letting it fall into the hands of his cousins, who are associated with Dark magic. But hang on, Asclepius? “You said you could bring Kreacher back, how?” Harry asked in a croaking hopeful voice.

      “Yesss, Dark magic is bad for thisss houssse, corrupt and twisssted magic, corruptsss and twissstsss mindsss of all who dwell here. Thisss Kreacher of yoursss, good thing he’sss dead, now with Massstersss Light magic, you can help to heal him and thisss houssse. Sssnakesss like usss are good with rebirthsss, transssformationsss, and healingsss.”

      “I’m not a snake.” Harry said.

      “If you sssay ssso.” Was the snake laughing at him? Harry couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as if the snake was patronizing him.

    “Show me what to do.” Harry said, as he clenched the lifeless form of Kreacher closer. In answer the snake unwound from the banister seamlessly and wound itself around Harry’s arm to rest its head on Kreacher’s shoulder. Harry listened to the lilted hisses of Asclepius with rapt attention as he continued to give instructions in parseltongue.

      “The anssswer isss in Massstersss magic, can you find it?” Asclepius hissed quietly. “Can you feel the magic inssside? Clossse your eyesss and open your mind to the feeling. Feel how wild your magic isss, erratic and out of control. Grasssp the magic threadsss and braid and weave them into a coil. Reach and hold tight, and bring it to the sssurfassse. Wrap your magic around thisss Kreacher.”  

    Harry pondered what Asclepius was trying to tell him. ‘Close his eyes and open his mind,’ sounded like meditation to Harry. He was use to trying to meditate when practicing Occlumency. ‘Feel and see the magic.’ When Harry uses his magic, he often feels a warmth in his diaphragm surging up and out of his core and traveling down his wand arm when spellcasting. “There I feel it.”

      “Took you long enough.” Harry mentally rolls his eyes. ‘Great, A smart alec!’  Asclepius is just like all the other ‘snakes’ in Slytherin Harry knew. ‘Harry you really should have known.’ He thinks to himself as he concentrates on the next step. Sweat was beading at his hairline, and trickling down his back. His neck hurt from bending over Kreacher’s ‘dead?’ body, his lower back hurt from leaning against the steps of the stairs, and his head felt stuffy and his pulse felt like the little drummer boy was tapping his tempo at his temples. Overall Harry hurt, but he kept following Asclepius’s instructions. He follows the warmth of his magic to his magical core, and sees with his mind’s eye, the wild frenzy of his magic, tangled together with its ends zipping and snapping with vibrant emerald green kinetic energy. The snake said to ‘braid and weave it into a coil’, but harry found it difficult to catch the magical threads and hold still long enough to braid together. It took time, and Harry wondered if perhaps he wouldn’t be able to save Kreacher, because he was taking too long, but Asclepius never told him to hurry up, it only commented with snidely remarks mixed with encouragement, like a mentor. Eventually, he was able to weave together a messy braid and bring it loosely coiled to the surface, slipping only few times on the ascend to the surface.

       “Good, very good. Now, wrap like healing bandagesss.” This reminded Harry of how he had wrapped a blanket similarly around Dobby’s lifeless body at Shell Cottage before burying him, and choked up a little. Harry watched with halted breath as his emerald colored magic was met with copper magic and wrapping around Kreacher. “Copper isss like the tassste of blood, and isss the color of magic for all thingsss living.  Your Kreacher livesss now.”

       Harry didn’t know what time it was, the hallway had no natural light to go off of, and the pocket watch that Molly Weasley gave Harry on his seventeenth birthday broke during the Battle at Hogwarts. He was sweaty from the over exertion of using a great deal of wandless, wordless magic, and filthy from being on the floor and dispersing the dusty spectre of Albus Dumbledore at the entrance. Rebirth, transformation, and healing are what Asclepius told him his magic would do for Kreacher. An emerald and copper snakeskin now surrounded Kreacher like a shroud, once the skin flaked away Kreacher would be alive, more youthful than ever before. All Harry could do was sit at the bottom of the grand staircase and wait for him to wake up. For the first time in a long time Harry cried with relief and gratitude; Kreacher would live.  And he hoped beyond hope that Kreacher would forgive him.

\------

    The Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, England was located among acres of forested land that had been in the Malfoy name for ten centuries. The original land-grant that the Manor now sat upon; was granted by the Muggle William the Conqueror, Duke of Normandy, and the first Norman King of England during the eleventh century C.E. The Malfoy’s always prided themselves on their connections to Muggle British aristocracy and royally, many of their antique treasures and wealth came from numerous magical deeds and misdeeds performed for them. In the years following the Norman Invasion, many of the acreage surrounding the Manor expanded due to the annexation of land belonging to neighboring Muggles.  

      When Muggles began hunting Witches and Wizards in what they called, “Witch Hunts” in the late seventeenth century, the newly formed Ministry of Magic passed the International Statue of Wizarding Secrecy which hid the Wizarding communities from the Muggle communities. Any witches or wizards who revealed themselves to Muggles would face swift punishment including having their wands snapped. The Malfoy’s would have to cease all involvement with Muggle aristocracy, or risk losing their standing and position of influence within the Ministry. The Malfoy’s preservation instincts were strong even then, and they removed their existence form the Muggle community; keeping all their possessions, and even stopped their expansion efforts. The Malfoy Manor and its lands, as it is seen today have remained unchanged; with the exception of much needed updates in plumbing and gas, unplotible and invisible to Muggles.

     Narcissa Malfoy felt apprehensive as she approached the drive leading up to the Manor along the large yew hedges. The walk reminded her of the first time she visited the Manor after she married Lucius, a respectable marriage in her parent’s eyes. She was fresh out of Hogwarts, so young and starry eyed over her husband; a young, rich, and pure-blood socialite like herself, never minding it was an arranged marriage. She certainly could have had worse; there was no love lost between her oldest sister, Bellatrix and her husband Rodolphus Lestrange. As the youngest, Narcissa was lucky she wasn’t forced to marry an older man her father’s age, after the fiasco her second oldest sister Andromeda made over marrying a poor, mudblood, nobody. Yes Narcissa could have done much worse. The young Narcissa had no idea how wrong she truly was.

      Narcissa was once so impressed with the Malfoy Manor, she was to call home. It was a handsome manor house, brick walled, grand peaks, and two gardens fenced in with yew hedges, and a fountain that sounded like bells in the distance. The entrance to the Manor grounds was guarded by a wrought-iron gate closed off against outsiders. Beyond the gates, the diamond pained windows of the Manor glittered in the distance in pre-dusk light. The gates did not open as they approached, but dissolved into smoke and solidified behind them. Nineteen years later those very gates would hold her and her only son prisoner within a gilded cage.      

       Brought back to the present, Narcissa glanced briefly to her right to see her equally apprehensive seventeen year old son, taking the position of walking street side, always the gentleman. Two scarlet robed Aurors stationed as their guard, walked in front of them and behind. They were there for the Malfoy’s protection, but Narcissa was still warry of them.

     Draco Malfoy silently strode up the gravel paved walkway of the manor house he once considered home, but no more. The only reason he was there was because he needed to gather his possession, and settle his affairs before his creatures inheritance came in at midnight on his eighteenth birthday. It was only twilight of the day of the trial, which means he had exactly ten days. Only ten more days and then he will never have to step in this living hell ever again.

      Draco Malfoy once admired everything about his father. He envied the power and influence his father had in the all circles of wizarding society, in the Ministry of Magic, the Wizengamot, pure-blood circles, and in the Dark Market. His father always taught him, he was better than everyone else; he was a wizard and better than muggles, he was a pure-blood, which accounted for his prestigious breeding, and he was rich, which sure as hell was better than being poor. He was taught that anyone who wasn’t like him was less and he couldn’t associate with any of them, pre-Hogwarts days. This was why his father wanted him to enroll in Durmstrang Institute of Magical Learning, only rich Pure-bloods were permitted to attend, he would have continued to learn the Dark Arts unimpeded, and he would not be forced to associate with anyone his father didn’t approve of.

      All he ever wanted growing up was to be just like his father, so he did everything his father asked of him, said whatever he needed to say, acted in whatever mannerism he was supposed to. Draco rotated his stiff shoulders, flexed twice, feeling the faux pain of the scars from the caning he received more than once for being a disappointment to his father. Draco learned the hard way that the life he grew up with was wrong. It only took a war and living with a deranged murdering monster for three years to knock some sense into him. Sure he could still be proud of his pedigree, but that didn’t mean half-bloods and mud…muggle-borns were less. Take Harry Potter and Hermione Granger; Granger is perhaps the smartest witch in his year, if ignorant of wizarding ways, and Harry Potter… well he’s lacking in the brains department, but makes up for it with looks, and magical power. Draco was not afraid to admit that he was vain. Weasley was still dirt poor and an uncivilized weasel.

     Draco now has the last laugh, because as the last surviving male Malfoy, Draco is head of the household and master of the Manor. It was time to clean house. Draco opened the wards on the gate, letting his mother and himself onto the grounds. To their left and right, large expanding yew hedges lined the gravel walkway to the front of the Manor. Somewhere in the distance he heard the gentle sounds of a fountain. Off too his right a screeching honking and shrill call sounded.

      “Oh Earl, did you miss me, my darling little boy?” His mother actually cooed to the albino peacock lying atop the yew hedge. It’s white feathers ruffled and fluttered in the gentle breeze, as it spread its tail feathers into a sweeping fan. And all Draco could think, ‘bloody oversized chicken.’ He had been chased and pecked more than once by his mother’s beloved pet, the actual shape and color of her full Patronus charm. The albino peacock named Earl, cooed back before racing along beside them on their trek up the drive.

      When Draco reached the double oak doors and stained glass diamond paned windows of the entrance, he swept his hand out in a down to up shooing motion and opened the doors magically to reveal the foyer. The foyer was large and luxuriously decorated, exotic carpets covered stone floor, and portraits of the Malfoy ancestors lined the walls. It was only the Malfoy’s by birth that received the place of honor on these walls, mostly men, and all bigoted, going back ten centuries. Somewhere on this wall, his father’s portrait not yet awoken hung. His mother portrait would not have a place in this hall, but the Ladies parlor somewhere at the back of the Manor, where the in-laws hung, forgotten.

      It was Narcissa that drew Draco out of his musing. She cleared her throat, “Dot, Kocoa!” Two female house-elves appeared in front of them, cowering, with long noses touching the floor, rumps in the air.

      “What can this unworthy one do for Mistress Dowager Malfoy, and Master Malfoy?” Dot, the slanted eyed house-elf with polka dotted handkerchief tied around her ears, and red pillowcase tied in a strapless Hawaii style around her small body.

      “Yes, how can this unworthy of house-elves be assisting the Mistress and Master, this fine evening?” Squeaked the mousy doe eyed House-elf with a hemp sack for a dress pulled over her head.

      ‘I’m Dowager Malfoy now’ Narcissa was only a little shocked at being addressed as Dowager, 43 and already a widow. Her son is now head of the household and held all the power and control, something he lacked all his childhood. First with a domineering father like Lucius and later after the Dark Lord returned and shattered the illusion his father presented. Really, if only Draco had known Lucius was only a Beta. Narcissa could live with being a widow, losing her standing in the household; after all she got what she most wanted; her son safe, and her husband somewhere where he could not touch them anymore.

      Narcissa cleared her throat, “Dot, I need you to clear out as many multi-compartment trunks as possible, and only pack mine and Draco’s clothes and any items of necessity, hygiene, and beauty products. Kocoa, I need for you find any valuables my late husband bought me, any jewelry I bought or brought with me into our marriage, any loose gold or other currency lying around, and empty the safe in all offices.” Narcissa stopped pondering what items to take and which items to take. But her son took those thoughts out of her head.

      “Dot, along with clothes, items of necessity, hygiene and beauty products; I need for you to collect my school supplies, Quidditch gear, and family owls. Grab any documents portraying to the Malfoy estates, the ledgers, and the vaults. Kocoa, any valuables not in the Vaults I need you to transfer them too, as long as they are not dark artifacts. All dark artifacts unidentified by the Aurors leave at the manor.” Draco instructed.

      Draco then paused in his orders. Looked around the foyer and watched all the portraits smirking, sneering, or shouting vulgarity at them. With a smirk of his own, Draco says to Dot, “I will also need you to empty the vaults and trunks of all portraits of Malfoy by blood. Get all other portraits into the vaults. Bring me all portraits with the surname or maiden name Black, do that first.” Dot disapperated away with a crack, only to return with a few select portraits.

      “Here you are, Master.” Draco carefully took the Black family portraits from the house-elf. The first portrait was that of his deranged lunatic of an aunt, Bellatrix and he had an urge to throw it against the wall and break it into pieces, but he restrained himself. He shifted through the portraits until he came across one in particular, a male with curly black locks to his shoulders, grey eyes and a roguish smile.

      “Hello cousin, Sirius.”            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 01 April 2018  
> Happy Easter!  
> Or for those Atheists out there; April Fools!  
> No joke: I finally posted chapter 1 in the companion story, Pulling Strings, Behind the Scenes.  
> \------  
> Please note that the next chapter includes smut with rape/ non-con. It's only a sex dream.
> 
> November 30, 2018
> 
> Quick poll for the readers: will end on December 11, 2018
> 
> Do you think the animal portrayed on each of the Founders house crest represents a Patronus or an animagus?
> 
> Reply in the comments!


	4. Creatures' Inheritance Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's creatures' inheritance and first rut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wonderful World of Harry Potter, the characters and images all belongs to the amazing mind of J.K. Rowling and no copyright infringement was intended in the creation of this fan fiction.  
> Disclaimer: Use of a scene from Half-Blood Prince, but in Draco's POV. No plagiarism is intended.
> 
> Rape/non-con tag added. I didn't expect to go this route when I started out, thus forgot the warning. Future sex scenes will be consensual. This one's a dream. 
> 
> Skip to the ***End of Smut*** break if don't want to read it, but you will miss Draco's creatures' inheritance in bold if you do.  
> But please enjoy!

      As the date of Draco’s creatures’ inheritance and his eighteenth birthday drew nearer, his mother, Narcissa noticed some peculiar differences in her son’s behaviors. For one, he was becoming increasingly aggravated and short tempered. He became excessively possessive of his belongings, not letting the house-elves handle most of his things. He has become marginally stronger, even with Quidditch practice, and his senses have become sensitive to sight, smell, and sound. He has also become obsessed with grooming his hair and skin. Narcissa knew the signs well; her petit Dragon was going to be an alpha just as she was.

      Narcissa was both proud and scared for her Petit Dragon. Alphas have a lot of stigmas placed on them as they are stronger than the other secondary genders and they can become temperamental at a drop of a quill feather. This is a problem for newly presented adolescence alphas, as they do not have the control needed to interact with others rationally. They will be aggressive in their dominance of others. Her son did not need this extra pressure on his shoulders, what her son needed was to keep his head down and stay out of the public eye and gain the grace of his peers.

      It would soon prove to be a more difficult task than previously thought. The Malfoy’s were now shunned by nearly all members of the Wizarding community in Great Britain. Pure-bloods associated with Death Eaters and the Dark Lord’s regime, were persecuted. Neutral Pure-bloods who refused to choose a side during the war ignored them, and pure-bloods on the Light side were outright hostile in their verbose denunciations. That was not to mention how the Press slandered their ‘good name’ on a daily basis.      

      Just a week prior Draco and Narcissa left the Manor to take a jaunt into town for the first time since the trial, only to be nearly mobbed in the street. They needed to go to Gringotts and settle their financials, withdraw gold, and sort items needed to be moved, sold, or destroyed. The two Auror details assigned to them were negligent in their duties and stood aside and watched as the crowd of vicious accusations grew along with the mob. When Draco shouted at the nearest scarlet clad Auror, “Why aren’t you doing anything? HELP US!” The Auror said impassive, “No one has drawn their wands and until then we are not obligated to step in.” That excursion was unsuccessful and the Malfoy’s were forced to return home without completing the tasks they set out to do. Narcissa never left the Manor again since that incident.

      Draco, however; never gave up on his attempt to join once more with the Wizarding World. Draco first stop was Ollivander’s to purchase a new wand for the two of them.  When he arrived, Mr. Ollivander was tolerable to his presence in his shop even after the cellar renovated cell incident during the war. He was in the process of having what must have been the hundredth wand reject him when Mr. Ollivander’s nieces came crashing through the door, miraculously or rather magically, the spiraling tower of wand boxes remained stacked.  It was them that refused him service and ran him out of the wand shop to the waiting crowd outside Ollivander’s. Due to the same arsehole Aurors useless presence assigned as security detail to him, stood aside as the mob threw bloody rocks at him. Rocks! Savages all of them. Draco came back to the Manor with a horizontal cut on his left cheekbone, and scrapes and bruises upon his body. Draco and Narcissa continue to remain wandless.    

      How was Draco going to get by without a wand? How was he to return to school in the autumn only a few short months from now? How was he going to handle his peers, his course work, and his creatures’ Inheritance?

      One thing Draco knew for sure, ‘learning to control his new found power and instincts would be a bitch to manage.’  

      Learning to navigate between alpha-omega dynamics could be problematic for the Eighth year students interacting with the rest of the school. Twenty-five percent will have some form of a manifestation of their creatures’ inheritance and guided by their instincts. Twenty percent would be alphas; highly temperamental, aggressive, and possessive. The other five percent would be omegas; normally gracious, seductive, and protective. Two different dynamics, two different temperaments, yin and yang; yet add an alpha in rut or an omega in heat-chaos will ensure.

      The heightened sexual tension alone would erupt in a whole cauldron of problems for Wizarding schools and is why the terms are strategically designed so students graduate before their eighteenth birthday, successfully avoiding any hassles with students whom have any manifestation of creatures’ blood and their inheritance.

      If the Eighth Years are allowed to return, certain accommodations will have to be met for those with manifest creatures’ blood and navigating with the alpha-omega dynamics. Mandatory ABO Sex education classes for the Eight Years would have to happen the first week of school, a task usually set aside for the parents and guardians. Now Hogwarts would have to include unisex dormitories, individual rooms for mated pairs, and heat and rut rooms for the Eight Years. Not to mention alphas and omegas would have to be excused from classes and homework for the three to seven day heat and rut cycles. And some other school rules would have to be relaxed; like curfew, and allowing students off school grounds outside Hogsmeade Village weekends to visit Heathouses.

      Draco has also been noticing some changes with his body-though he would probably only admit some of them to himself. He wasn’t going to mention to his mother, for instance, that he is increasingly aggravated all the time because his sleep patterns have been interrupted by bizarre dreams, alternating between half-memories and erotic sex dreams with one certain emerald-eyed wizard in the foreground.

      Now for instance, Draco knew he was dreaming, asleep in his canopy bed back at the Manor, clade bare in silken sheets of emerald green and sensational sand beige; yet his dreams led him to the day he dueled Harry Potter in the sixth floor bathroom at Hogwarts, but the encounter played out in his dream a whole different route.

[(HBP:24:521-523 but from Draco’s POV) (what goes on outside his dream is in **bold) :)**  ].

      Draco stood with his back to the door of the sixth floor boy’s bathroom, hands clenching the edge of the sink in a white knuckled grip, and white-blond hair bowed over the sink when Harry crept into the bathroom unnoticed. Moaning Myrtle the ghost that usually haunted the girl’s bathroom on the second floor, had been trying to get him to confide in her for months now.

      “Tell me what’s wrong…I can help you…” Myrtle crooned from the cubicle next to the sinks.

      “No one can help me,” His whole body was shaking. “I can’t do it…I can’t…It won’t work…and unless I do it soon…he says he’ll kill me…” Draco was beginning to realize the severity of his commitment to the Dark Lord. If he didn’t kill Dumbledore soon, if he didn’t fix the Vanishing Cabinet, he was dead.

      Draco was crying, tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy basin. He gasped and gulped and then, with a great shudder, looked up into the cracked mirror and saw Harry Potter staring at him over his shoulder.

      ‘No! No! It couldn’t be, Potter can’t be here, seeing me like this. He will rub my nose in my weakness. He’ll tell the whole school I’ve been crying in the bathroom with Moaning Myrtle of all people-well ghosts. Surely he’s heard me.’ Draco’s blood chilled in his veins, ‘He’s heard me… and he’ll tell!’ Draco’s scrambling brain finally kicked in and he wheeled around drawing his wand throwing a wordless hex at Potter’s head. It missed his head by inches and shattered the lamp on the wall behind him.

      Potter threw himself sideways, throwing a wordless jinx of his own but Draco was able to block it with a flick of his wand. He raised his wand once more, trying to concentrate over Moaning Myrtle’s shouts echoing loudly in the tiled room, “No! No! Stop it! STOP!”

      Draco cast another wordless jinx that caused the trash bin behind Potter to explode. Potter retaliated with his own wordless hex which ricocheting off the wall behind Draco’s head, narrowly missing his ear, and caused the cistern beneath Moaning Myrtle to explode. Water sprayed everywhere, instantaneously soaking the two duelists, and poured onto the tiled floor. Potter went to cast yet another curse “SECTUM…” and slipped on the slick tiles.

      ***SMUT/WARNING/RAPE/NON-CON***

      Draco stood wide-eyed and disbelieving as he watched Potter slip in the spray of water, blood blossoming at his temple where it struck the floor, and his wand slipping out of limp fingers. ‘Potter, one of the greatest wizards of our time, brought down by a puddle of water. Un-fucking-believable! Draco now watched him momentarily hypnotized by the scene that played out before his eyes; Potter lying wet on the slick tile floor, legs slightly spread alluringly, and watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

      Potter moaned once and Draco mirrored the sound as his cock began to harden at the sight and sound of him lying helpless and unconscious at his feet. It wasn’t every day Draco had Potter right where he wanted him. Potter moaned again as he slowly stirred to consciousness, spurring Draco into quick action. Draco smirked mercilessly as he advanced on the unconscious boy of his fantasies, slowly loosening the Slytherin silver and emerald tie from around his neck. Kicking Potter’s wand further out of reach, Draco got on his knees, straddling Potter’s hips.  

**In his sleep, Draco moaned, cock hardening and flipped over onto his stomach, silken sheets tangling around his hips and legs.**

      Potter was only wearing half his uniform; gray trousers, white button down shirt, and Gryffindor scarlet and yellow tie sans gray blazer with school emblem and robes. His shirt had already ridden up his slender waist and Draco noted he missed a loop three buttons down. Deciding to remedy the situation, Draco nimbly undid the rest of his buttons. He then slowly glided his hands up Potter's torso, opening Potter’s shirt from narrow hips and slender waist, all the way up his ribcage, over the smooth skin of his chest, brushing his thumbs over brown nipples on the ascend, to rest at the loosely knotted tie at his throat. Deciding to leave Potter’s tie where it was for now, he pulling his own tie over his head, and grasped first one slender wrist, then the other and swiftly secured his tie around Potter’s wrists. With Draco straddling his hips and hands tied above his head, Draco believed he had Potter adequately pinned beneath him.

      An unconscious victim was no fun even for Draco and Draco decided he was going to have a lot of fun with Potter’s body. So, Draco slapped Potter across the face hard enough to leave a red hand print. “Potter, hey Potter! Wake up; you’re going to miss all the fun.”

      Potter groaned again, head moving from side to side slowly as he groggily opened dazed eyes to look around, legs shifting, arms flexing before stiffening. Potter held very still, his breath halted in his chest as he slowly looked up into gray eyes with pupils blown wide. Draco’s own breath hitched as he looked down into brilliant eyes of emerald magnified by dorky thick round rim glasses.

      Potter snarled between clenched teeth, “Malfoy, what the feck do you think you are doing?” Potter struggled with his bindings, twisting to and fro only succeeding in adding delicious friction to a dick already painfully hard. Red blossomed in Draco’s cheeks and his eyes glazed over in passion. Potter stilled in his struggles, eyes going wide. “You…” He trailed off glancing down at the hardness pressed against his own flaccid penis. Draco watched Potter’s Adam’s apple bob, his slim throat constrict then loosen as he gulped.        

      “You see this, Potter?” Draco spat out his name. “That shut you up, did it? Yeah, maybe my hard dick down your throat is exactly what you are begging for, isn’t et, Potter?” Draco growled low in his throat, voice glottal. 

      Potter snarled, “You wish, Malfoy” as he threw his head back, neck contorted as he bucked his hips, trying to dislodge Draco from astride, but only succeeding in nocking Draco forward onto all fours, face only inches from his own. Draco inched forward, only to have Potter twist his head to the side. Draco was unimpeded, though and swiped his tongue across the gash at Potter’s temple, causing him to hiss between teeth clenched tight. Draco then buried his nose in Potter’s throat. Breathed in the smell of fresh snow, a scent of one unpresented, forbidden.

**Draco was rutting against the bed sheets, silken sheets adding little friction to his thick cock, base swollen red, thick veined and head an angry purple. The bulbus glandis swelling but unable to find purchase on sheets slick from sweat and pre-cum. Draco growled, frustrated that his knot could not find anything to latch onto. His legs locked and his toes dug into the sheets, and hands clawed into the pillow beneath his head. Draco was coming into his creatures’ inheritance. His first rut was upon him and his transformation inevitable.**

**Bare skin split open, and blood dripped as a new epidermis broke through seven layers of skin. Iridescent white scales rippled over a body tightly muscled as it contorted; bones broke and realigned, and muscles ripped apart as new anatomy emerged. From the trapezius muscles above his scapula bone two thin membrane wings sprung, his coccyx grew out in an additional seven foot limber tail, and three inch talons sprouted from each finger. Hind quarters developed powerful haunches, legs, and feet in order to kick and leap off the ground high enough for strong wings to catch the wind. Draco’s feet now sported four talons in the front and a hallux talon reversed for gripping on the heel. The ridge of his nose flattened, and forehead broadened to accompany two horns breaching through his hair line at his temples, similar to that of a gazelle’s.**

**With the manifestation of Draco’s creatures’ blood, he now stood over seven feet tall- from tiptoes to the tip of sharp horns. His wingspan easily reached fourteen feet, and his tail added another seven feet in length. His three inch talons on his hands could easily rip through stone walls, and his feet were designed to grip the earth when running and jumping, or grabbing anything in general from the ground or sky.**

**Even now those powerful talons ripped through layers of duvets, sheets, pillows, and into his mattress. His tail wiped around erratically knocking into the nightstand and splintering one banister on his canopy bed. Vicious snarls erupted from his throat, and his gums bled with the emergence and growth of sharp teeth. The underside tip of his tongue was rough like sandpaper, able to roll back and click against the normally soft palate of the roof of his mouth, igniting flammable gasses released from a valve that connects to a second stomach. When exhaled, these flames could potentially reach twenty to thirty yards. The gasses pooled in Draco’s throat, tongue igniting them, and his throat glowed like hot embers.**

      Draco licked down the column of Potter’s throat and leaving nibbling kisses at his clavicle. Potter’s nipples stiffened and goose-pimples pebbled on glistening wet skin in the drafty castle bathroom. Draco arched his back some, bent his head and licked at Potter’s too tempting nipples, before giving a stinging bite, a soothing swirl of his tongue, and moved on to give open mouthed kisses down his abdomen. His tongue dipped and swirled in Potter’s navel, before following his happy trail down further. Draco looked up trough hooded eyes, and impossibly thick eyelashes, to peer at Potter with **eyes a dark stormy gray, and diamond slit pupils.**

      Sucking on his teeth for a moment before making his decision, Draco gave one sharp tug revealing naked hip bones to the drafty air. Potter bucked and cursed and kicked at him as Draco fought to remove his trousers and pants at the same time. Finally had enough, Draco took handfuls of Potter’s hair, lifted his head and smacked it sharply into the tile floor, once more dazing him. The task of removing Potter’s trousers and undergarments finally done, Draco took the seconds needed to sit up straight whip his hair from his eyes with a flick of his head, and momentarily peered down at the dazed Potter beneath him before reaching down and unsnapping his own trouser buttons.

      Pulling down his trousers and pants just enough to release his aching cock, he reached under Potter, spread his knees, lifted his ass off the ground, and wedged his body between his thighs, effectively keeping his legs spread and preventing his escape. His weeping member was red and swollen, and angry blue veins ran up the base of his cock to a purple head. It looked so delicious next to Potter’s tightly puckered asshole. Cursing his too eager body, and not having the foresight to bring lube as he actually didn’t know a lubrication spell, he’ll need to improvise.

      Lifting Potter’s ass in the air and bent down to meet him half way. Rolling his tongue, Draco let saliva pool at the tip before leaning down to lick a stripe once across Potter’s asshole, swirled it around a few times, before gradually adding pressure to the entrance of his too tight passage and slowly slipping inside with his tongue. Tonguing Potter’s asshole open, he rolled his tongue and jabbed in as far in as he could, spearing him, jabbing in, before thickening his tongue, wiggling it in a wave motion, then flattening it out. Then repeating this processes a few time, Once satisfied that the entrance was adequately lubricated, Draco leaned back to peer at his handy work. Potter’s hole was rosy pink, twitching, and glistened nicely.

      Using his right hand, Draco stuck the index, middle, and ring figure into his mouth, salivating all over the digits, before slowly removing them, slick with saliva. Potter was listless on the floor, legs spread, and arms bound above his head. Draco was pleased to notice that Potter’s cock had begun to respond, slowly rising to the occasion. Leaning over Potter once more, Draco whispered in his ear, “Now we get to the really fun stuff.”

      Draco jammed his pointer and middle finger into Potter’s hole to the last knuckle, ruthlessly. Potter’s back arched off the wet tiles, breathing in on a breathless scream, “huh-ahg!” Draco pulled his fingers out again, before just as with his tongue, jabbed them in as hard and far as he could. Potter was groaning and whimpering in protest, “nnh, ugg, no, no!” Draco opened and closed his fingers, scissoring his fingers around, before curling them, searching, searching…

      “Nooo, AWE!” There! With a satisfied smirk, Draco continued to press into that spot, over and over again.

      “Well, well, well, Potter. It looks like you are enjoying this after all. Having fun yet?” Harry was shaking his head frantically, in denial of the pleasure caused by the stimulation of the prostrate located in the anus. Draco added a third finger, the tight ring of muscles protesting the intrusion. The sensation must have been too much for Potter to handle, between pain and pleasure; his struggles increased, and screams and cries grew louder. But finally, with a final thrust of his fingers, Potter’s muscles in his channel tightened impossibly more, constricting around Draco’s three fingers, his back arched off the ground, and throat muscles chorded on a silent scream, before his whole body just collapsed in a heap upon the water.

      Gasping, body shuddering from the aftereffects of the intense orgasm, Potter couldn’t move even if he wanted to. Breathing heavy, cock heavy and curled up to touch above his navel, Draco smiled manically down at Potter. Grasping Potter’s ass, dragging him closer to Draco’s desired destination, he lifted his legs over his own shoulders, bending Potter nearly in half.

      Potter looked between their two bodies to see Draco’s large cock seated at the entrance to his anus. He paled, breath halting in his chest, body still as a statue, as if that would stop his progression. “Malfoy,” he spat, “don’t do this. I won’t tell if you cease what you are doing right now. No, stop.” Draco wasn’t listening to a word Potter was saying, the end destination to irresistible to cut the journey short just yet. He spat into his hands, rubbing them over his cock, pumping his cock a few times adding delicious friction, before his cock was maneuvered at the entrance once more.

      Draco looked deeply into Potter’s wide and panicked eyes, and said quietly, “Scared, Potter?” before pushing his cock past the first ring of muscles.

      “NOOOOOOoooo!” Potter howled in pain, not hearing the satisfying pop of Draco’s cock clearing the tight ring of muscles of his asshole. Draco paused, not because he was waiting for Potter to adjust, but because Potter’s passage was almost too tight, squeezing too hard, making it painful for Draco to advance any further.

      “Merlin’s balls Potter! You’re too tight, bare down, push back.” If Draco could just get Potter to relax some, Draco could continue without hurting any of them more than he had to. Potter wasn’t listening, tears poured down his face as he sobbed, his body twisting, trying to get away from the intrusion. Draco was able to drag Potter back by his leg, one time, before nearly getting kicked in the face by the other.

      Snarling Draco managed to bring one of Potter's legs up over his shoulder and head, to position him on all fours, Potter aiding this desired position by trying to get away, inching forward on bound wrists and shaking knees. Draco landed the rest of his weight onto Potter’s back, grappling with him, trying to gain purchase on wet skin, before finally grabbing onto his narrow hips, and slamming balls deep into him. Holding Potter up barely by his hips, Draco began to ruthlessly thrust into Potter’s tight hole, angling for Potter’s sweet spot, his prostate with every thrust.

      Looking down between their bodies, Draco noticed a thin trail of dark blood drip down his own cock, another trail dripping down Potter’s thighs, adding yet another grotesque lubricant to Potter’s tight and resisting asshole. Potter was on his knees, chest touching the wet tile, head bowed over his tied wrists, wails and screams ripped from his throat. Draco also took note of the blood pooling from between his lips, ‘he must have bitten his tongue or the inside of his cheek, or something’.

      Draco was captivated by the look of Potter’s wet and glistening nape from sweat and the spray of the broken pipe. It is this captivating muscle, the trapezius muscle that covers most of the back, including over the scapula bone, or shoulder blades, and the posterior of the neck that an alpha will bite to claim their omega mate. An omega or another secondary gender would bite the scent gland over the sternocleidomastoid, or the muscle that connect the clavicle to the skull behind the ears, to equally claim their mates.

      Wanting his completion, wanting to claim Potter as his and no other, and knowing the bite would send Potter over the edge into oblivion with him, Draco yanked him up by his hair, causing him to give a painful yelp, and keeping him upright by placing a hand over Potter's abdomen muscles, feeling his own cock outlined beneath smooth skin and tight muscles. Potter was still speared on Draco’s cock, knot finally locking them together, when he whispered in his ear for the first time, “Harry, your mine now.” He roughly yanked Potter into a bruising kiss, all tongue and clashing teeth, before pushing him back onto all fours, still buried inside, and bit into the tender flesh at the nape of his neck, and finally claiming Harry Potter as his. Draco threw back his head, mouth gaping, blood gleaming against his teeth and roared out his orgasm. Potter was also orgasming, brought to the end and finally tumbling over it, as Draco’s hot seed spurted into him in short, hot, intervals.

**Draco was roaring his release, a jet of fire escaping his mouth, unnoticed.  The twenty yard jet caught the canopy around him on fire, along with the carpets, curtains, and any wood feature in his room.**

      Potter lay collapsed on the ground beneath Draco, trapped beneath his deadweight, inadvertently locked together for the unforeseeable future, until Draco’s knot released enough cum to shrink. With each short spurt of cum, Potter shuddered as his prostrate was over stimulated.

***End of SMUT/ You've missed Draco's inheritance in **bold** ***

      A short time later, Draco untangled himself from Potter’s listless body, pulling out and watched as his own cum, pearlescent, tinged with blood, plodded out of the stretched out, puffy, and ripped hole. Draco raped Potter, violently. He didnt know what came over him. In his fantasy's he's always cherished him, protected him. He's not blind like the rest of the school, has seen the bruises beneath baggy and worn out clothes, when he returns to school after every summer; too thin and starved. Who does he stay with that abuse him so, the Weasels? No even for them, he doesn't see that happening.

      Disgusted with himself, nearly sick in the aftermath of such unprovoked violence, Draco turned away from Potter, whom he believed was passed out or at least unable to get dressed, and he began to sort out his soggy, and limp clothes somehow still on him. He needed to get dressed quickly and get help for Potter. Once his shirt was on him once more and finished buttoning up his trousers, he heard a splashing sound behind him. He wheeled around to find, Potter had managed to roll himself over towards the sink, clamber for his wand and shout, “Sectumsempra!”

      Blood spurted from his head and torso, like being cut by a sword. With hardly a cry, Draco collapsed back to the wet, and bloody floor, his blood mixing with Potters, floating like crimson flowers. Draco’s hand scrambled at his blood-soaked chest, scarcely believing his eyes. ‘Harry Potter had cast Dark Magic!’

     Potter was standing over him, only in his dreams, grimly looking down at him as he bled to death. He knew this wasn't in his memory. In his memory Moaning Myrtle had yelled MURDERER at the top of her ghostly lungs, and Harry had scrambled towards him on hands and knees panicked and remorseful for what he had done. Not this cold version standing over him, looking down upon him as he bled out. This Potter wasn't the kind, caring, "Saint Potter", the Wizarding World's Savior.

In this dream, Moaning Myrtle was floating over his head, giggling, and thrilling in a high pitched sing-song voice, “Don’t worry Draco, death will come soon. If you die and come back as a ghost, you can share my cubicle with me.”  

      Severus Snape swept into the bathroom, pushing Potter out of the way. Draco wanted to say, ‘stop! It wasn’t his fault. I raped him. He was only…only…Potter…Harry, I’m sorry. I only wanted to be your friend, why? Why? It’s not fair professor, don’t you see Harry? Why can’t anybody see him suffering? Why does he continue to suffer by my own hands. Help him! He deserves saving, not I. ’

      But Professor Snape was not listening, not even trying to read his mind Draco left wide open. “You need the hospital wing. There might be a certain amount of scaring…And you, Potter…You wait here for me.” Snape says menacingly as he half lifts Draco's body into a standing position to walk out of the sixth floor bathroom with his help, to get to Madam Pomfrey.   

\-----

      With a jolt back to reality, Draco awoke to realize his room on fire, his two house-elves, Kocoa and Dot trying desperately to wake him up, and get him dressed into soot stained but as of yet burnt clothes. For once Draco didn’t care about his appearance, what clothes he was wearing, or if his hair was neat. He jumped out of what remained of his smoking bed, slipping on the sooty garments, Draco hastened to reach his mother's side. He was not worried about getting burnt, after all he is partially dragon, thanks to his mother’s creatures’ blood passed down to him, but rather having a beam fall on him.

      Narcissa was waiting for him at the entrance of the Manor, several trunks protected by fire retardant shields floating by her side with the aid of house-elf magic. This was all planned out, well they were supposed to burn down the Manor as they left, not rushing out due to Draco not being able to control his body. Narcissa hugged her son none the less, sensing his distress levels and said “Don't worry about what cannot by undone. We are ready, non? Oh, mon petit dragon, you are handsome” Draco grew a few more inches in height, his features became sharper-if that was even possible with his already pointy features, and his hair grew in length to brush his shoulders. As planned, they walked out of the Manor together, three trunks in front, two behind, with two house-elves in toe.

      Two completely irked, and flabbergasted Aurors ran up to them from the drive.“The Manor is on fire, how did this happen? What did you do?” The first arsehole of an Auror from earlier questioned accusingly. Narcissa scoffed.

      “What’s it to you, the Manor is ours, we are not prisoners in our own home as before. Are we?” Narcissa shot back with a hard glint in her eyes from diamond shaped pupils. A silent threat, she didn’t need to hide from anyone now that her son had presented. She'd need to teach her son control. These two Aurors are betas and weak; Narcissa and Draco may not have any wands, but they still had talons and fire.

      The one Auror stuttered. “No, ma’am…not… not prisoners, we are your guard detail…protection.” He finally managed to get out.

      “Not anymore”, Draco growled, because 'hey he only just presented he cannot be expected to control his instincts'. “You are dismissed”. If he was a little testy, it’s because his rut isn’t going to be over for another twenty-four hours. Their plan was forced to move up a whole day, but his mother was always one who thought on her feet.

      “Where are you going, if your home burnt down?” The other Auror finally spoke up.

       Draco and Narcissa spoke in unison, “Sanctuary.”

       The first Auror went to follow the two Malfoy’s before the second one gripped his shoulder and shook his head. They’ve been dismissed, the Malfoy's were no longer their concern, they had reports to make. With a crack, they disapperated away in a swirl of scarlet.

      Draco and Narcissa continued down the drive, Narcissa never faltering in her stride. “Mon petit, be a darling and grab Earl for me.”

      Draco now looked apprehensively at his arch nemesis, the albino peacock, Earl. Many people would have believed it was Harry Potter, but no. He sighed in defeat. He really couldn't deny his mother this one happiness. So, he complied with her wishes, only getting pecked thrice in the processes.

     ‘Bloody oversized chicken’ he thought one last time as he hauled the bound and muzzled white bird under his arm.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it worth the long wait?  
> I'll add pictures later. I want an original of this one. Any takers? Let me know.
> 
> Coming up next- Chapter 6: Sanctuary  
> Black reunion and a couple other surprises.
> 
> I added chapter one of Pulling Strings, Behind the Scenes. That is the promised companion story, all the extras, like Harry's letter. There is a huge spoiler at the bottom of that chapter.
> 
> Stay Awesome!
> 
> Sincerely_Devra


	5. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black family reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wonderful World of Harry Potter, the characters and images all belongs to the amazing mind of J.K. Rowling and no copyright infringement was intended in the creation of this fan fiction.  
> \------  
> Looking for inspiration! Harry and Draco are finally living together under one roof. There is over a month in the story before Harry's 18th birthday. How do you, as the reader, want to see their relationship grow, in terms of courtship, flirting, dates, and yes there will be a lot of sexual tension on Draco's part. Shoot a comment below and pitch your ideas. I am all ears, I have a few ideas already set in stone. I will give you a couple previews in the endnote.

       Harry Potter took Kreacher and cradled him in his arms as he ascended the grand staircase in the entrance hall, Asclepius (Ask-lep-ee-us) twisting and winding his way up the banister in his wake. Once on the first floor landing Harry looked over the top of the banister to see the entrance hall below, with its destroyed decor. He looked down the hallway he stood in, trying to figure out where to place the still emerald and copper snakeskin enclosed Kreacher. The first floor landing hosted three rooms, a tiny bathroom, a small bedroom where Ginny and Hermione slept the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts, and the drawing room. Deciding on the drawing room, Harry made his way to the entrance and stared in, just reminiscing.  

      The drawing room was an exquisite room, if a bit dusty. Harry could actually see what the room might look like once it was cleared out, furniture restored, and antiques polished. Harry imagined it would clean up nicely once the Doxies were cleared out of the curtains and Bogart in the desk disposed of.

      Doxies were fairy-like creatures with black coarse hair all over their bodies, double set of limbs, and an extra row of sharp teeth, with a venomous bite. As for the Bogart, well; no one knew the true form of a Bogart, as it is a shapeshifting creature that takes the form of that which is most feared by the person who encounters it. It’s not like Harry could just call someone to terminate pests like Muggle’s would. Then he heard Hermione’s persistent voice in his head, screaming at him, _‘ARE YOU WIZARD OR NOT?’_

      Right, suddenly Harry remembered that in second year, the class had learned how to get rid of Doxies and wondered why no one had thought to do this before. Gingerly, Harry placed Kreacher on the same sofa cushions Hermione had slept on when the three of them were on the run. He stood up straight, turned to face the two large East facing windows that overlooked the streets of Muggle London, drew the Hawthorn and Unicorn hair wand from the wrist holster, took a breath and began eradicating some pests.

      Taking a deep breath in and then on the exhale, “ _Alohomora_ ” and opened both windows in the drawing room, not realizing that he also opened every window and door in the townhouse as well.

      Again, another deep breath and on the exhale Harry cast “ _flipendo_ “using the knockback jinx to freeze and then repel the Doxies from the curtains, and a gentle breeze swept them out the window along with over a decade of dust. They would be someone else’s problem now.

      To keep them out, Harry would need some kind of barrier that would allow for him to open the windows at one point without them getting in. Remembering some of the spells used while hiding from snatchers, Harry cast first, _“Protego totalum”_  a spell that will protect Grimmauld Place as a whole instead of just the windows. Harry’s eyesight wavered, and he became dizzy. Something was wrong, he’s never cast a protection spell over one area so large before, perhaps Grimmauld place was larger than once believed. He had to continue otherwise they’d just return with a vengeance.

      Another breath in, another exhale, “ _Fianto Duri”_ was cast, which allows for the caster to perform a string of incantations without ending the previous. An eerie wind was building up around Harry, rustling his hair and clothing, but nothing else moved in the stale aired room.

      Spots swam in front of his eyes and breath became shallow and strained. ‘Last one’ Harry’s whole body shook; from exhaustion, from over magic exertion, he wasn’t sure. Concentration became difficult, he raised his wand arm and barely muttered the final incantation that would repel any dark magic and dark creatures from getting in, “ _Repello Inimicum”._ The rush of magic that left Harry’s body in a tidal wave made his legs buckled beneath him.

      He wanted to just stay collapsed and lay on the floor to rest, but it still wasn’t safe. The Bogart was still in residence. But those three spells which he used regularly on the run, often with a string of other spells, drained his magic severely, something that had never happened before. Completely getting rid of the Bogart would have to wait. Kneeling on the floor, and trying to muster as much concentration as possible, he quickly cast a locking charm, “ _Colloportus”_ on the desk the Bogart hid in. It was too much for Harry. Wand slipping from fingers gone blue and numb, Harry collapsed in a heap on the floor.

\------

      When Harry awoke sometime later, the sun was setting, and a breeze was ruffling the dust and Doxy-free curtains. Harry slowly stood up, looking around him. He could hear the sounds of birdsong over the sounds of normal day-to -day activities of Muggles returning home from work or going about their business.

      Legs unsteady, Harry stood up and took an assessment of the room. Light filtered into the room from the curtains, giving the room a light and airy feeling. The claustrophobic feeling this room had before was no longer there. The spells that Harry cast did a lot more than he intended, not just keeping dark magic out but also expelled all dark magic from the house itself. No wonder he felt as if all his magic was drained from his core. The gas lamps upon the walls and chandelier overhead were not lit, spelled to go on when natural light wasn’t present. The rug was still threadbare, and wooden floors beneath it would need to be polished, but there was no layer of dust to walk through.

      On the parallel wall from the two large windows, the Black family tapestry stood in all its glory, with elaborate crest and motto, “there are many stories beneath the lines.” Indeed, generations of wizarding families going back to the fourteenth century were on that tapestry. Pure-blood family names overlapped with each other. It’s true when they say all Pure-blood families are related to each other, either by blood or marriage; Yaxley, Longbottom, Crouch, Gamp, Malfoy, Lestrange, Crabbe, Rosier, and even the Prewitt’s, Weasley’s, and Potter’s were on here; although the last three had their names blasted off the tapestry, and their lines never continued.

      Arthur Weasley’s mother Cedrella Black married Septimus Weasley and had their lines blasted off the family tree. Molly Weasley née Prewitt’s mother Lucretia Black married Ignatius Prewitt and had their family lines blasted off the family tree. Draco Malfoy’s aunt Andromeda Black married a muggle-born Ted Tonks and had their family lines blasted off the family tree. Harry’s own ancestor whom he’s never known, appeared on the tapestry; Dorea Black married Harry’s Great-Great Uncle Charlus Potter, his Great Grandfather Henry's (Harry) brother, and for some reason their lines were blasted off the family tree.

       _Why? What did these individuals do to get their names removed from the family tree?_

      It saddened Harry greatly that his and his godson’s names would never be on the tapestry. Did this mean they would never have a family to claim them, but each other? Both Harry and Teddy were left orphaned in this world due to the First and Second Wizarding Wars. Not wanting to dwell on which cannot be undone anymore, Harry tore his eyes from the tapestry to look around the room in a new light.    

      Across from the door, the large fireplace stood proud with an elaborate snake decorated mantle place, bookend by two tall glass cabinets. The cabinets once held jars of dark potions, dark artifacts, and Salazar Slytherin’s locket that Voldemort turned into a Horcrux. Harry’s eyes were drawn to an item he’s overlooked in the past.

      Above the fireplace was an empty portrait frame. Within the frame sat a single lion claw armchair made of cherry wood with a green velvet cushion. Behind the armchair was a tall window with silver and dove gray curtains flapping in an invisible wind. In one corner of the frame sat a lonely baby grand piano with duet bench. Standing in a display beside the piano was a four foot high arrangement of red roses. Harry watched as each of the red roses went through a cycle of petals budding, blooming, and then falling to the floor, before budding again. Even as he watched this fascinating life cycle begin again, more flowers were being added; an array of colorful lilies, mixed with white calla lilies. Harry wondered who belonged in this portrait. Did they leave the house when it became under poor repair, or are they lurking somewhere in this house in another portrait or building, entirely?

      Once more Harry panned his eyes around the room barely stopping over lamps, side tables, a couch, loveseat, and armchair, before stopping on the 88-key baby grand on the other side of the door. That was the same piano that Hermione was trying and failing to teach Ron Beethoven’s _Für Elise,_ and the same piano in the empty portrait.

       Walking over to the piano, Harry sat down in the center of the duet bench, positioning his hand in resting position over the middle C note. He slowly worked his fingers over the scales, working his way up each octave, limbering his fingers in a well-practiced warm up. It wasn’t like he wanted to tell Hermione and Ron that he actually knew a bit about the piano, it never came up before that autumn, and when Hermione did a piss poor job of teaching Ron, he was pre-occupied searching Sirius’s and Regulus’s rooms, and finding out who R.A.B. actually was.

       Harry didn’t know how to read music; he listened by ear and played by heart. He just didn’t have the patience to learn it. He would only call himself a novice at best, and an amateur  at worst. Harry learned the basics from the cat obsessed old women who babysat him when the Dursley’s went away on vacation. She only lived a few blocks away, still in Little Whinging Surrey, making it a convenient and cheap way for the Dursley’s to temporarily get rid of him while they had fun.  Mrs. Arabella Figg often bored him half to death, talking about her prize-winning cats. But sometimes she’d take a break and try to teach him the piano. So from listening to Mrs. Figg ramble on about cats, the piano, and escape into the garden to pull weeds, Harry learned a bit about the functioning of the piano, how to play, and how to tune one.

      Mrs. Figg was more than a crazy old cat lady, whose house smelt like cooked cabbage, or who rambled on about classical music and musicals. She was actually a Squib who worked for Professor Dumbledore under the Order of the Phoenix, and sole assignment was to watch out for Harry Potter until he was reintroduced to the wizarding world and then once Voldemort returned. She had to keep up the pretense of the dreadful babysitter, so the Dursley’s wouldn’t think she was treating him nicely, and get another worse babysitter. When she wasn’t undercover keeping an eye on Harry, she was a well-known breeder of hybrid pets; half–Kneazle and half-cat.

      Although Harry actually picked up a thing or two about playing the piano, he’s often pretend to be dreadful so that he would have the rare pleasures of just relaxing and listening to her play. The music would often lull him to sleep and he’d wake up with a mouthful of cat hair.

       Harry knew that on an 88-key piano like this baby grand, there are 52 white keys, and 36 black keys. The white keys are called naturals and notes run from C-D-E-F-G-A-B. The Black keys also go from C to B as well but play sharp or flat notes, and are called accidentals. Sharp notes run from left to right and if asked to play a C sharp, the pianist would hit the black key directly above the key with the C note. Flat notes run from right to left and are essentially the same as the sharp notes. For example, C sharp is the same as D flat, and D sharp is the same as E flat, et cetera. There are 8 C notes and 8 octaves on an 88-key piano. Every eighth key stroke lands on a C and goes up one octave. The C note can be found by this pattern; 2 black keys followed by 3 black keys, and right before the 2 black keys will be the C note. Behind the keys and beneath the lid of the piano are no less than 230 strings that would need to be tuned, a process that could take two hours.

      Rolling his neck and shoulders, Harry got down to work.

      Harry was listening for out of tune keys by ear; so that he could tune the piano. He supposed the Magical society knew how to tune a piano with magic, but Harry only knew the Muggle way. Harry was in luck, looking inside the duet bench Harry found some old moth eaten sheet music, a tuning hammer, and two damper sticks. He wouldn’t need the damper stick in the lower notes, seeing as the lower notes had only one short thick string. But as he goes up in octaves, the higher notes have between two to three unison strings working together to create one coherent and clear as bell sounding tone. The damper stick or muter, will help damper the vibration of the other strings connected to each key, while isolating each sting to tune individually with the tuning hammer, then come together and tune as a whole. The tuning hammer is used to tighten or loosen the strings to get them back in tune, individually and then up to three unison strings together per key. Harry started at the lowest notes A, A sharp, B, B Sharp et cetera, ending at the eighth C note.

      When he finished the processes of tuning the piano, some two hours later, the sun had set completely and the gas lamps in the room were lit. His back ached, muscles were stiff, and his fingers were sore, from this grueling exercise. But he felt accomplished in finishing his task. For one; he spent two hours with his mind distracted instead of waiting for Kreacher to wake up, and two; he now could play the piano uninterrupted.

        He began to play. What at first started out as the haunting reenactment of Beethoven’s _Für Elise_ ; _Echoes of Elise,_ turned into something else entirely. He remembered hearing this song covered on the Telly from a popular Broadway Musical, _Les_ _Miserables._ Mrs. Figg had been so excited in hearing the music that she rambles on for hours about the small failed rebellion in France a century past, the characters portrayed in song and dance. Mrs. Figg would even sing along horribly, the piano was her instrument of choice, not her voice.

      Harry’s own voice joined the notes of the piano.

_I dreamed a dream in times gone by_

_W_ _hen hope was high and life worth living_

_I dreamed, that love would never die_

_I_ _dreamed that God would be forgiving_

_Then I was young and unafraid_

_And dreams were made and used and wasted_

_here was no ransom to be paid_

_No song unsung, no wine untasted_

      Thoughts of what life could have been like, if Voldemort had not chosen him for death flooded through his mind. He remembered receiving his first Hogwarts letters and feeling so happy to leave the Dursley’s. He remembered the excitement, and wonder, and awe upon seeing the magical Castle that would feel more like home than anywhere else in the world. He remembered meeting his first ever friends, Ronald Weasley and later Hermione Granger. He thought of all the adventures and mischief they got into, although Harry would say he never went looking for trouble, that trouble just found him. He imagined his father, James Potter and the Maunders; Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin would be proud.

_But the tigers come at night_

_With their voices soft as thunder_

_As they tear your hope apart_

  _As they turn your dream to shame_

      They were murdered protecting him. Harry knew that the song was initially about a summer romance turned sour, but Harry couldn’t help but feel like all his dreams fell apart too after Voldemort’s return.

_He slept a summer by my side_

  _He filled my days with endless wonder_

_He took my childhood in his stride_

  _But he was gone when autumn came_

      When Sirius Black escaped Azkaban during Harry’s third year, and turned out to be his godfather and not the murdering lunatic out to get him as he and the rest of the world was made to believe, Harry felt ecstatic that he would finally have someone who wanted to call him family. With the Dursley’s he was a dirty little secret; hidden away to live in the broom cupboard under the stairs for 10 years, without even a picture of him gracing the walls of his Aunt Petunia’s and Uncle Vernon’s home. He was malnourished, and beaten, and worse than all the negative attention was being ignored. The teachers in Muggle schools didn’t care when he came to school bruised, or smelly from not bathing, or wearing unclean clothes, or clothes two to three times too big for his small frame. When Uncle Vernon’s boss discovered his existence, his uncle called him _“A very disturbed little boy”_ when Dobby dropped a cake on the head of the wife of his uncle’s boss.

      But Sirius actually _wanted_ him.  Sirius was his godfather; best friend of his father James, and didn’t even know him. But Harry was his best friend’s son, and Sirius would take him in because James father Fleamont Potter, took Sirius in when he ran away from Grimmauld Place at sixteen. He was willing to take Harry in, no question asks. But then Peter Pettigrew escaped justice again, and Sirius had to remain a fugitive, and Harry had to stay with his abusive aunt, uncle and cousin. Then at the end of Fifth year, Harry fell for Voldemort’s trap, and Harry got Sirius killed when he left the protection of Grimmauld Place to rescue him.          

_And still I dream he’ll come to me_

_T_ _hat we’ll live the years together_

_But there are dreams that cannot be_

_And there are storms we cannot weather_

       He had so much to look forward to, his friends, starting a family with Sirius, finishing school. All the happiness that Harry felt just left him after Sirius was killed by Bellatrix, and Harry’s life went into an out of control spiral of death and depression. First with the failed mission to find and destroy a Horcrux with Dumbledore, nearly getting killed by a lake full of Inferi; corpses collected and cursed with Dark Magic to serve one master, Voldemort. That night ended with Death Eaters getting into the Castle and Dumbledore forcing Snape to kill him, so that Draco could remain innocent. Then Harry and his friends left school before they finished their final year at Hogwarts, leaving their friends and families behind.

        Harry needed to run, survive, and outlast the snatchers, Death Eaters, and Ministry of Magic under Death Eater Regime, so that they could finish the task Dumbledore left them, find and destroy the Horcruxes. Sometimes, Harry resented Dumbledore, he didn’t tell him so many things, lied to him about his parents death, the prophecy, that he was the last Horcrux. All of Harry’s life was a lie. Harry never felt like a hero or a savior that they made him out to be. He felt like a fraud but people worshiped and fawned over him.   

    _I had a dream my life would be_

_So different from this hell I’m living_

_So different now from what it seemed_

_Now life has killed the dream I dreamed_

      The final notes faded away, and Harry’s voice broke off at the end on a sob. When will the tears end? There was a creaking noise behind him and a soft unfamiliar voice speaking to him from behind.

      “That was beautiful, Master Harry Potter, Sirs. Can Kreacher listen to another song?”

      Harry spun around fast on the bench, nearly tripping over his own legs as he scrambled over the bench to Kreacher’s side, collapsing at his feet, as uncontrolled sobs of remorse and relief racked his shoulders. _Kreacher’s alive, not dead, alive, not dead._ The montra kept     

      “I’m sorry. Kreacher, I’m sorry!” Harry sobbed into the faded carpet at Kreacher’s feet. Only standing at three feet tall, he could only just see over the top of Harry’s bowed head. Kreacher was patting his distraught master shoulder. 

      “No say sorry to Kreacher, Master Harry. Kreacher does not deserve Masters apologies. Kreacher was a bad house-elf and deserves punishment, he does. Gracious Master Harry Potter didn’t leave me dead.”

      “I killed you, I’m sorry, I killed you!” He was babbling, words tumbling over each other.

      Kreacher rolled his big brown eyes, and took Harry’s arm and disapperated. Harry’s world spun away, the ground disappeared from beneath his feet, his lungs compressed painfully, then expanded as if suddenly sucked through a narrow straw and spat back out again at the end destination, the air echoed with a loud CRACK!

      Collapsed on his knees, head spinning, and stomach churning, Harry fought not to heave. Getting his feet under him, Harry stood and looked around.  “Kreacher?”

      “Yes, Master Harry?” Kreacher responded.

      “Where…where are we? We’re not in Grimmauld Place anymore, are we?” The room was magnificent, light cherry wood features accented every corner; framing the entranceway, the molding on the ceiling, the double glass patio doors bookended by west facing windows. Natural light flooded the room with the last embrace of the dying sunset.

       “But Master Harry Potter, Sirs, we are in Grimmauld Place, the Study.” Kreacher emphasized this with a firm head nod, big wing ears flapping humorously.

     “I don’t remember Sirius ever mentioning a study. Where is it.” Harry inquired as he swiveled his head around to take in all the detail.

      It was a spacious room, large archways and glass doors and windows giving the room an open feeling. Against the south facing wall was a large four cushion couch. Above the couch was a large gray scheme landscape, featuring a crystal clear lake that reflected the sky above and snowy mountains. Against the north facing wall an ‘L’ shaped desk sat in one corner and in the opposite corner, an even larger ‘L’ shaped bar. In front of the couch was a coffee table made of the same wood as the rest of the room, with matching end tables. Beautifully decorated gas lamp with bases of rich bronze and shapes of tempered glass in an array of colors from ambers to brown and yellow topaz, and turquoises to aquamarines, sat atop each end table and upon the desk. The glass shades matched the colors in the crystal chandelier above the bar.

      Kreacher was by the bar now, ears barely reaching the top of the counter, let alone seeing properly what he was doing. “I think it’s time to lift your spirits, Master Harry, Sir.” And with that declaration, he waved his hand and the bar opened to reveal an array of alcoholic beverages.

      “Did you just make a joke,” Harry asked incredulously with a bark of laughter.

      “Did it work?” Kreacher asked. “Now what kind do you like”.

      “I don’t know. I never had any, myself. What kind did my godfather like?” Harry asked with his hands in his pockets, and shoulders slightly hunched.

      Tilting his head to the side in thought, Kreacher pondered the question. Thinking out loud, before raising his voice in certainty, he said, “Awe, well Mistress Walburga liked…Sherry and Regulus’s liked… Port.  Hmmm, Sirius ran away so young, but I found alcohol in his rooms once or twice. That Sirius sir. Always the rebel, that one. Preferred Whiskey. American Bourbon to be exact.”  

      “I guess I’ll go for Bourbon, as well then Kreacher.” Harry said with a wry smile.

      “Good choice, sir. Can’t say I ever had any myself Master, but ol’ Kreacher here, fine education in what Spirits to bring to the party. Hard stuff here, and Wines and Champaign’s in the cellar.” Never mind that Kreacher was no longer that crinkly old and smelly house-elf, but rejuvenated and young looking. ‘He would probably never get over talking like an old man, er elf’.

      Kreacher poured him a splash of mysterious brown liquid into a crystal tumbler. Kreacher handed harry the crystal, looking up at him expectantly.

      “Er, you didn’t poison this, or anything did you…you know to get back at me for casting the killing curse at you, and all?” Kreacher’s bat like ears flapped, his big eyes narrowed, and his large nose crinkled affronted. Before he could open his mouth to dignify that offense with a reply, Harry said in a rush, “never mind,” and swallowed the small amount of liquor in one gulp…and regretted it immediately.

      Harry coughed and sputtered, trying to catch his breath as fire burned down his esophagus.

      “Uggg, god no, it burns, why?” Harry managed to get out. Warmth immediately flooded his chest and he felt a little dizzy, as he peered up through watering eyes at the twinkling eyed house-elf. "Why does anyone drink this stuff, Kreacher?”

      “Ah, yes Master Orion made Sirius drink nearly a whole bottle of this when Orion’s prized Bourbon was discovered in his room. Sirius was not enjoying it so much then either. Master Orion was also a Bourbon drinker. Lesson number one, be awares of the proof. Don’t be asking for just any Bourbon. That there’s a 94 proof, 18 year charred oak. ” Snapping his fingers Kreacher banished the bottle back to the bar, and another took its place. This ones…I thinks more your style. Tries this. Slow sip and let sit on your tongue, before swallowing, no gulp like before.”

      Hesitating, Harry looked apprehensive between Kreacher and the amber liquid he swirled stalling for time. Before with a shrug he did as Kreacher instructed, bracing himself for the burn. Harry was pleasantly surprised by the undertones; smoky, spicy, and sweat, but still burned like fire. Coughing once into his wrist and clearing his throat, he said, “another.”

      And so Kreacher began teaching Harry the finer things about Spirits, steadily getting him drunker and drunker, until Harry was collapsed over the bar, talking in a drunken slur and rambling. One arm was dangling off the edge, while the other was busy making imaginary designs on the wooden surface of the desk.

      “Kreacher…” Harry whined, “Do you hate me? Hic! Do you think I’m a poor master? …Kreacher? Why is that your name anyway? It’s ...hic...cruel!” Harry Potter appeared to be a whiny, clinging drunk, who knew?

      Kreacher tried and failed to reel his master back from the brink of insanity, before he did something unforgivable, like offer him clothes.

      “Do you want to be freed? I could free you, offer you a wage instead…hic… like Dobby.” His mumbling was becoming incoherent, and Kreacher was barely able to understand the drunken and slurred rambles of his often too serious and depressed young master. Mostly Kreacher was ignoring him, focusing on getting a pepper-up potion, and hang over cure ready for him. He tuned in just in time to hear any barkeeps worse nightmares.

      “Oh, wouldn’t Hermione be happy then? I’d officially be a member of S.P.E.W…hic…I…I think I’m going to spew, actually.” With a horrified squeak, and quick reflexes, Kreacher was able to get Harry's head over a bucket, before he made a horrid mess of the antique desk.

      Currently retching into a bucket, Harry couldn’t make out Kreacher muttering soothing nonsense, like “there-there, ‘ol Kreacher’s got Master Harry. All’s all right. Let all that poison leave your body. Kreacher’s going to make you better now.”

       Harry Potter was clinging to Kreacher, his breath smelling like vomit. “I could free you, you know, or you could go find a better master. I’m…not a good master, I killed you.” He mumbled. Suddenly sitting up straighter, swirling around in the chair and in his excitement he nearly tipping over the back of the chair.

       “You could go serve the Malfoy’s. You wanted to do that before the end of the war, right? The war is over, no need to worry about you revealing secret information to them now” Harry was nearly bipolar in his excited drunkenness, poor Kreacher could barely keep up with his sudden mood swings. One moment he is moody and depressed, then clingy and whiny, and the next he is a happy drunk.

       “Harry Potter,” Kreacher spoke up finally, voice high and squeaky. “I no longer wish to serve anymore masters but you, sir. You saved my life, you healed me. Kreacher is a better house-elf now. You healed me, I was corrupt, like this house was by dark magic. You, with Light magic, purified this house and me. You punish my intolerable behavior, killed the old me, and bring me back to life. I serve you and your family for life.” With a final head bob, Kreacher put an end to all that being freed nonsense. Pouring a glass of water to clear his master’s palate.

       “Awe… but Kreacher I am not a Black, my last name is Potter and I have no family it’s just me.” Harry mumbled as he chugged the water down, trying to get rid of the sour taste of vomit.  

      “Sirius had no family either Master Harry, sir.” Kreacher pointed out.

      “Sirius had me! His godson!” Harry said angrily as he took a quick drink of the next fiery drink slamming the glass down on the wooden surface.

      “Exactly,” Kreacher squeaked, “he had a godson, as do you.”

      “Teddy…” Harry’s vision blurred and his mind went fuzzy and he heard what Kreacher was saying through a haze of fog. 

       “Sleep Master, you can see your godson tomorrow.”  _Wages!_ Kreacher shuddered at the thought as he helped clean up Harry. _Kreacher serve Malfoy?! uggg Kreacher rather bash his own brains in, he would. Kreacher serve House of Black not Malfoy. Narcissa yes, even son, Draco, but can’t now._ kreacher mumbled to himself, as he spoke this last bit out loud."Kreacher must serve Master Harry Potter, as last Master willed it. Besides all in prison, no family to serve and Manor to take care of once they’ve all be gone to Azkaban." Kreacher probably didn’t know he said that last bit out loud, the way he was mumbling it to himself, but old habits die hard, even with him being reborn a “new house elf” Kreacher was still the same in many ways. 

      Harry heard what Kreacher said, and his mind whirled with possible reasons and solutions.  _Azkaban? All of them in Azkaban, not just Lucius Malfoy, even Narcissa and her son? No! They don't...they can't...must fix_ this...How? His thoughts were incoherent and fading away, as he scrambled trying to think of a solution to save their lives.

      “...tomorrow…must see...”

      "Shhh, Master sirs, you go get new Young Master in the morning, Kreacher will get rooms ready for Andromeda...," Either Kreacher was mumbling again or Harry was blacking out, but Harry could no longer focus on what Kreacher was saying as he hopped around the room, cleaning up dirty glasses, 'did he really drink that much?' and straightening the liquor cabinet behind the bar.   

      The only thing he could think of was that he hoped tomorrow wasn't too late. 

     ------

      The next morning Harry couldn't remember the conversation he had with Kreacher from the night before. The only thing he could concentrate on now was his pounding head. Lurching up off the couch, Harry held his head and moaned.

      He was in the study that he did know, and he knew that his migraine must be from Kreacher's lesson on different types of Spirits. If Kreacher's idea was to raise Harry's spirits, then they have certainly crashed now. 

     Even as Harry was currently very carefully, trying to find where the rest of his body went, as he could only feel his head, Kreacher appeared with a tea tray and a small pile of scones. "Awe master is awake, good. I've prepared you a cuppa to start your day and something small to settle your stomach. A big day today, lots to do."

      Harry has never seen Kreacher so excited, and certainly didn't appreciate his enthusiasm at the moment. He currently felt like he could murder the squeaky and chirping house-elf all over again. He didn't think he had any taste buds left to enjoy even the orange and cranberry scones currently being served. His throat and tongue felt like sand.

    "Oh master,  Kreacher be sorry. Here is your Hangover cure, and Pepperup potions."

     Quickly swallowing so called cure, a foul tasting gray gunk, that reminded him of PolyJuice Potion, and the tiny mint flavored Pepper-Up potion. Holding his hand over his mouth and sayin, "Urk!" He felt like he was most likely going to throw up, rather than be cured. "Urk, Kreacher..now that I had that delightful wakeup call, what's a big day today?" Harry burped again.

    "Don't master remember, sir...you go see your godson today!" Kreacher squeaked excitedly. "We discussed it all last night. Don't you remember, sir Kreacher is already preparing a nice room on the second floor, Mistresses old rooms, nice little area for a baby to stay with Mistress Andromeda." 

      "Teddy and Mrs. Tonks here, at Grimmauld Place?" Harry could barely recall anything about Andromeda Tonks, having only met her twice in person, he only remembered that she shared an unfavorable family resemblance to her older sister Bellatrix Lestrange. "But Kreacher, hang on. Mrs. Tonks has her own home, whose to say she even wants to live here with us?" 

      Kreacher's big ears drooped as he hung his head. "Kreacher thought Master Harry Potter would be happy to have a family here. It's just the master, and old Kreacher in this big townhouse. Kreacher has nothing to do once Master Harry Potter goes back to schools." Kreacher appeared to be shrinking in on himself as he spoke, shoulders hunched, ears drooping, and head bowed. 

     "All right, all right, enough moping, already. I'll get dressed and see about _visiting_ Mrs. Tonks. You hear me, Kreacher? I'm not making in promises!" Harry's didn't need to be looking to know Kreacher wasn't paying any attention to him,  Kreacher spun away with a mischievous grin on his face and satisfied twinkle in his eyes.  _Master needs family, and if his godson's the only family he acknowledges then Kreacher will make it so they are together._ Humming and skipping about, Kreacher busidly prepares a quick breakfast, consisting of a warm cuppa and hot buttered scones.

       As Kreacher made himself busy with the tea tray and scones, Harry fought his pounding headache as every scrape of the silverware and tink of the china felt like a team muggle construction workers drilling holes in his brain with jackhammers. The only consolation was he know longer felt ill just at the smell of the too buttery scones. 

     Carefully moving his eyes about the room without moving his head too much, Harry took notice of the two doorways; both door frames were made of cherry wood, the polish glowed red against the faint morning light coming in from the east. The east facing double glass doors was carved into four half circles; two of which mirrored each other, coming together at the doors center divide to create one whole circle, while the other two half circles were inverted to face the hinges. With one horizontal carved wood created the impression of a cross at the center of the doors. The fogged glass added privacy from anyone looking in or out of the study. The second set of doors, nearly took up the whole west wall of the study, rectangular with two large windows that bookended the double glass doors, optimizing the most out of any natural light that may come in from the west. Harry could just make out an iron fence, brick and green tree branches swaying in a summer breeze outside. 

   

      Kreacher saw his master staring out the glass windows and asked, "Would Master Harry wish to eat outside on the terrace patio?"

      With a slow smile spreading across his face in genuine enjoyment, Harry said, "You know what Kreacher? I would love to eat breakfast outside." And so without any ceremony, Harry stood up finding his alcohol induced migraine reduced from screaming pain, to mild roar. "Wow!" was all he said as he stepped out onto the terrace patio, the scenery taking his breath away.

       It must be magical, Harry concluded; otherwise how could such a large and vibrant garden be hidden away in such a dark and rundown townhouse as Grimmauld place was. The small terrace patio just left of the double glass patio doors hosted a small sitting area with glass table and five chairs. The terrace overlooked the garden with a curtain of scarlet bougainvilleas that fell to the garden floor below. The large half moon green lawn sparkled with morning dew, birdsong rang out from an abundant of trees providing a canopy of shade along the west wall, and a variety of colorful flowers, blossomed along the crescent moon gravel pathways. A smaller shaded patio area was set aside beneath the canopy, and half hidden in the northwest corner appeared to be a shed.   

 

12 Grimmauld Place Garden

      Harry sat down to enjoy his breakfast in the quiet and calm morning, something that he has never had before and contemplated his next plan of action. He wasn't going off to hunt horcruxes, break into a top security Wizarding Bank, or even save the Wizarding world. No, Harry was going to do something far more brave. He was going to visit Mrs. Andromeda Tonks; a women whose survived two wizarding wars and outlived her husband and only daughter, and ask her to uproot her entire life and move in with him. First he had to beg her forgiveness for being one of the last people to see her husband alive and not able to save him, or for that matter also not  being able to save her daughter and son-in-law, either. 

      If all went well, Harry would have his godson and his godson's grandmother living with him, and he'd no longer be alone in this world. 'Yes, a big day Kreacher, lots to do.'

       After he finished his small breakfast and cup of tea, Harry slowly stood up and took in the magical view once more, before turning around and heading inside. Kreacher appeared by his side, a silent ball of energy as he bounced in place on his toes.

       Harry raised one eyebrow and Kreacher seemed to have realized that Harry needed him to show him the way out of the private study. Gesturing towards the other set of double glass doors and they opened inward on their own. Stepping through this entrance, Harry took in the details of the large library with row after row of shelves lined with books. Four vertical windows that took up space from floor to ceiling, on the east and north wall added the natural light Harry had noticed before filtering into the study. Instead of gas lamps lining the walls, magically adjustable mirrors reflected sunlight all over the room. In the center of the library was two giant circle tables, and against the south wall was a giant fireplace. There was no other doors leading out.

 

Secret Library and Private Study

      "Okay Kreacher, what's up? How do I get out of here?" 

      "Oh, master must use either floo powder to step through the fireplace, use  _In_ _cindio duo_ spell, or allow Kreacher to once more appearate master to the drawing room." 

      Stepping up to the fireplace, Harry contemplated using Draco Malfoy's Hawthorn with Unicorn hair wand or simply use the powder on the top of the mantle. Harry decided that floo powder might be interesting. "What do I say to the floo network?" Harry inquired.

        "Simply throw it in, and step through facing outward" 

        'Easy enough,' Harry thought as he tossed in a small handful of floo powder and stepped inside the green flames that gave off no heat. Harry's world twisted away as he was flipped horizontally on his heels. He gave one long slow blink as his stomach fought to catch up with the rest of his body. He opened his eyes to see, not rows of books, but familiar carved doors that made up the entrance of the drawing room. 

       "Wicked!" Was all he said as he stepped out of the floo soot fireplace, now flameless like it was heatless; straightened his color and glasses in a centered and upright position, and walked out of the doors. 

      "WAIT!" Kreacher shouted as he ran after his wayward master. Where are you going, your filthy and needs a bath." Harry looked down at himself. 

     "Awe, right... haha. I'll ...er...get changed right now" 

  ------

       Andromeda Tonks née Black was at her wits end. Edward Remus Lupin, or more affectionately nicknamed Teddy, after her own late husband wouldn't stop screaming. The Muggle neighbors would surely hear and start coming over to offer assistance. They were very caring people, but Andromeda could not handle another hassle at the moment. Teddy was only a month old, although having not contracted the Werewolf gene from his father, he clearly took after her own daughter, Nymphadora, a metamorphmagus. His tiny head of hair was currently changing from a sickly green to an angry red, and Andromeda didn't know what was wrong with him. 

       There was a banging on the door, Andromeda looked from the screaming Teddy to the door, before swaddling the very distraught baby, and going to open the door. Teddy nearly got hit in the head with a hammer, but quick reflexes had her shifting her body so the hammer hit her in the opposite shoulder instead. 

      "Sorry ma'am!" A stranger stammered out as he realized his close call with a baby. "are you okay?"

      "I will be fine, once you tell me what you are doing waking up my grandson at this early hour," the hour only being ten in the morning and not so early, but Andromeda was up all night, so the hour really didn't matter, "then you assault me with a workman's tool! Now WHAT DO YOU WANT!" Andromeda really didn't mean to scream the last part, but her shoulder was throbbing, her eardrums ached, and Teddy just wouldn't-stop-crying!!!

      "Sorry to bother you ma'am, but I'm here to give the final eviction notice to the residence of this property, they haven't been answering any of the previous letters, there is no telephone number on file, and the mortgage is over six months late." The stranger yelled rather too loudly over the baby's wailing, and the nosy neighbors across the street and next door heard every word the stranger said. 

     Andromeda was pale, numb, she didn't know what to do. Her Ted always paid all the bills, but he was gone now. Reported dead over the radio station Potterwatch. She was barely making by with the money her husband had taken out of the bank accounts for her, before he went on the run before his death. Her daughter and husband unable to help pay bills themselves, because they were long out of a work; him being a werewolf and her being an ex-Auror and known member of the Order of the Phoenix.   Then Death Eaters were reported in the area and Remus and Ted left Andromeda alone to care for her heavily pregnant daughter. They had all had to flee the neighborhood, she had only just arrived home a week ago and there was indeed a pile of unopened post waiting for her when she returned. Not soon after the birth of Teddy, Nymphadora left to fight in the final battle with her wayward husband, and they both perished in the fight.  Now here she was, a popper, husband dead, daughter and son-in-law dead, and grandson left an orphan for her to care for. 

    The poor middleman handling her husbands mortgage didn't know what to do either. He was told the residence was empty but here a women in her forties stood with a crying infant in her arms. Ripping off the letter he had just nailed to her door and hasty putting it in her hands he said, "good day," and scampered out of there. The sound of the car door slamming shut woke her out of her stupor and she closed the door on the world. _What to do?_   _The neighbors will be on their way here any moment, now?_    

       As if calling on the taboo name of the Dark Lord himself, Andromeda heard a knock at her door. Closing her eyes on a prayer, Andromeda threw open the door with wand raised ready to obliviate any memories from her neighbors mind. The entrance was bare.  _I'm going starkers, I am._ Andromeda thought as she went to close the door once more, on a nervous giggle. 

      "Psst, Mrs. Tonks. It's me Harry, Harry Potter. May I come in?" A disembodied voice hissed out a quiet whisper. Two hands appeared in front of her, separating an invisible slit in a hood to reveal one specticle clad green eye and a lightning bolt scar just barely peeking through a fringe of messy black hair. With a slight sigh of relief, Andromeda quickly waved the godfather of her grandson in. 

     "Whew! Thanks, Mrs. Tonks. Sorry for the intrusion. I don't have much privacy these days, can't be too careful." He flicked the hood off his head, untied the string at his throat and swung the Invisibility Cloak off his shoulders. "May I hold 'em?" Harry asked holding out his arms to the swaddled and still wailing baby. 

     Grateful for a momentary reprieve, Andromeda carefully arranged Harry's awkward arms in the proper position to hold a newborn. It was adorably obvious that Harry Potter had never held a baby before as he stiffly held his godson for the first time, swaying from the shoulders without moving his hips to try to soothe the crying baby. 

      "Ssh...ssh, its alright Teddy Bear, its alright!" Miracles of miracles, Teddy quieted down, curious of the stranger holding him. Only a month old, Teddy was colorblind still, and had no control of the color his eyes or hair changed. spit bubbles emerging, Teddy's hair was now a deep fuschia color, and eyes a sickly pink-eye color.  _Fascinating._

     "Thank you, Mr. Potter. I don't know what you did to quiet him down but thank you." Harry peered up at Mrs. Tonks. She was clearly exhausted, rings appearing under her eyes, wider and kinder than her sisters ever was, and wild curly chesnut hair, a frizzy mess. 

    "Just Harry, Mrs. Tonks."

    "Well then...Harry, call me Andromeda or Andra" When Harry went to open his mouth in protest Andromeda rolled right over him, "or we are back to surnames then, Mr. Potter."

    "Er...no Mrs..." Andromeda lifted her eyebrow impressively at him, "er...Andromeda, then." He ended on a long suffering sigh.

    "Well then, Harry...come sit down. What can I do for you?" 

    Stepping out of the entrance threshold, Harry nervously fidgeting around with the quiet and attentive stare of Teddy gazing up at him, as if he could see into his mind, judging him. Sitting down as carefully as possible in the cramped little living room of Andromeda's home, he finally looked up to meet his hostesses eyes.

     He didn't know where to begin. Should he start off with his initial reason for coming, Teddy? or should he start by apologizing? He looked at the women who reminded him so much of her sister, the one whose deranged laughter haunted his nightmares, " _I killed Sirius Black, what are you going to do about it itzy bitzy Potter? ...Are you going to kill me?...You'll have to do better than that! ...hahahah!_ But then he looked into Andromeda's eyes and saw only silent compassion and grief.

      His own eyes mirrored hers, reflecting such emotion and depth of a man, Andromeda knew, stricken with grief and crippled by guilt. And suddenly she realized, Harry Potter was just a boy, not yet eighteen, uppressented and had the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders. For his entire life. He was shackled to this life, no options, no way out. Now that the war was over, he was lost. He lost everything to this war, his family, and any sense of normalcy taken and stripped from his grasp. Famous before he could even talk, and put on a pedestal and revered by all. And his eyes reflected a soul aged beyond his years, tortured by unknown ghosts and nightmares. This boy beat all odds, survived, and now feels guilty for those who did not survive.  _Dora...Remus_. And Andromeda knew why he was there. 

      "I forgive you." Harry didn't need to be forgiven, he did nothing that needed to be forgiven. Her daughter, son-in-law, and everyone else who died in the war, died not because of him or for him. Their lives and deaths were out of his control. But he needed to hear this. To know that he was not being blamed for the deaths of her own loved ones. The Savior needed to be saved, not from the monster of everyone's nightmares for the last few decades, but from his own personal demons. "I forgive you." She said again and hoped that by breaking down this one barrier, he would soon forgive himself. 

      Harry broke down crying, tiny Teddy in his arms. He clutched the tiny life to his chest as if his own heart would stop beating if Teddy was taken from him. Teddy began to whimper but didn't cry. 

     "Tell me." And Harry did. He told Andromeda about going on the hunt. How the Newspapers were spreading false rumors about him actually running away while people died pointlessly, when in fact he was trying to save them all. He explained turning away Remus's help after Bill and Fluer's wedding, how he called Remus a coward for even thinking of abandoning his wife and unborn child. He told how he was camping in the woods with Hermione and Ron, protected under wards and enchantments and coming across Ted Tonks, Dean Thomas, Dirk Cresswell, and two Goblins by the names of Griphook and Gornuk in March of 1998. Ted Tonks defending his honor to his four companions. How Harry had accidentally spoken Voldemort's name and  broken the taboo, sending Snatchers after them all. How her husband, Cresswell, and Gornuk had been killed trying to resist, and how the rest of them were captured. He cried as he told her about after their escape, Remus showing up at Shell Cottage in April, forgiving his outburst, and told him about the birth of his son and that he named Harry Teddy's godfather. Then about the Battle of Hogwarts in May and not being there to know how they died, only seeing them after the fact. He expressed his regrets, and his sorrow, and grief in wave after wave of tears and 'I'm sorry's'. 

     All Andromeda could do was take Teddy and place him in a bassinet, hold Harry tight and rock him in her arms; shushing and whispering her forgiveness, and trying to explain that it wasn't his fault, or that there was nothing he could do. Tears fell from her own eyes, finally accepting the death of her husband and daughter, and no longer wondering what happened to them. Andromeda's emotions were like that of a bone with a clean break, that could now mend with time. Emotions still raw with the loss of so many people she held dear, she had some idea of how Harry felt.  Harry didn't have a clean break, and it would take longer for his mental and emotional injuries to heal.  Andromeda vowed to help this broken boy heal.

     Some time had passed, they didn't talk after that, comfortable in each others silent  company. Andromeda brought tea out for the two of them, and settled down on the couch once more. From the bassinet next to them, Teddy began to fuss again. "Oh dear, it's time for him to eat and have a nappy change. Harry, love will you wait a moment while I tend to my grandson?" Jumping, startled by being called love, but finding he quite liked the endearment.  

     "Actually, Andromeda may I help?" Harry implored eagerly.

     "Why I never heard of a man willingly offer to change a dirty diaper before. Alright then, but don't say I didn't give you amp reason to back out." She giggled like a school girl as she carefully explained to Harry how to change his godson's dirty diaper. And Harry listened very carefully, as if he was learning a very dangerous spell in school. 

     Andromeda watched as Harry carefully took her grandson in his arms, and sway a little more naturally with him, humming contently. He then sat down in a rocking chair she guided him to, as he took a warm bottle of formula milk and carefully urged Teddy to take the nipple, nose and eyes crinkled as a happy toothed grin appeared on the boy's face as Teddy eagerly latched onto his meal.  Her eyes turned sad and Harry glanced up just in time to see her expression change.

     "You plan on taking him from me, don't you?" She said matter of factly. Opening his mouth, Harry was about to respond to that, but what he was about to say was interrupted with the sound of a doorbell. Andromeda sat motionless, not wanting to answer the door again. Harry very carefully placed Teddy in Andromeda's waiting arms and went to answer the door for her. 

     The soft mumble, "May I help you" was just barely made out amongst more mumbles, and talking getting louder. Curiosity got the better of her and she placed a now sleeping Teddy back to bed, and rushed quietly to the door. Harry was standing in the door jam, door barely propped open with a foot as he talked to what sounded like four very aggravated men on the other side. 

      "I understand that the bank has issued an eviction notice for the residence of this property. On two separate occasion an employee of the bank has stopped by only to be informed by the neighbors that the owners had left in a hurry in the middle of the night. Now my partner and I are escorting a locksmith and this bank employee to change the locks on all the doors. Unless you can give me proof of residence this instance we will have to ask you to leave or arrest you for illegal squatting."

     "Understandable officer, I am the nephew of the residence of this home. The homeowners did not "flee in the middle of the night" as neighbors reported, but they had a redeye flight they needed to catch. They went on a family trip around Europe and while on vacation, there was an accident. A car accident, and the homeowner Edward Tonks his daughter Nymphadora, and her husband Remus Lupin all died due to their fatal injuries. Andromeda, the Widow, was severely injured as well and has only just made it home with her month old grandson. I am here now to help her settle her affairs, we have only been here a few nights, and have not got around to answering the post and ringing the bank to pay bills."

       "Well, if in fact this is a true story, the bank wishes to offer our condolences, but you understand the bank will need proof of death, a death certificate. What did you say you name was again, Mr..."

     "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy I am Andromeda's only nephew from her younger sister, Narcissa."

     "Officer, you cannot possibly believe this...this... squatters story?! What kind of names are Andromeda, Nymphadora...Draco." The unknown person voiced sneered out.

    Harry taking on his haughtiest imperciation of his rival sneered back, "For your information for generations members of my family have been named after the constellations, you know...constellations, right? The Stars!" He drawled out in the most insulting manner imaginable. 

    Before the man could report with an equally scathing remark, a more timid voice interjected. "awe-hum, actually...the co-signer on the house indeed is a Mrs. Andromeda Tonks."

    Andromeda herself, inched around the corner, out of sight of the commotion happening at her own doorstep. She had to see this gallant boy in action for herself. _Impersonating a Malfoy, unheard of._ Harry stood at the door now fully open, he had his hip cocked, and chin raised high, he didn't have much height on himself, but he managed to give the impression of looking down at the men intruding on them.

     "Very well, now that you have delivered the eviction notice, just this morning, I might add, we have thirty days to evacuate the premises. If you wish to forcefully remove us from my aunts home, you best have a warrant or my lawyers will be in touch with the London Police department. Now I shall personally, have my solicitar ring the bank to handle the past due amount on the mortgage. They'll call you, don't call on us again. Good day, gentlemen" And with that Harry Potter, with no familial relations to Andromeda Tonks at all, slammed the door on the banksman, the locksmith and two police officers. 

     Harry was slumped against the door, breathing heavily. He looked up at Andromeda with a shy impish smile. Andromeda walked over, peeked out the pink crochet curtains, and watched the gentlemen depart in their muggle vehicles. She turned around and giving Harry a slow hand clap, highly impressed with his performance. "Well done Harry, love. You should have been put in Slytherin with that cunning act."

    Rubbing the back of his neck shyly, Harry laughed nervously. "The Sorting Hat actually told me that twice, but the Sword of Gryffindor disagrees. Awe, I wasn't lying I came here to help, well actually I came here to ask you something"       

      Andromeda sighed, "You want Teddy."

      "No! Well, er...yes, but I want you too. No that doesn't sound right." Harry was getting more and more flustered as he finally got down to trying to ask Andromeda to move in with him. Signing himself, and sitting back down in the cramped living room, peering in at Teddy before facing his quarry. 

      Andromeda decided to let her own instincts guide her. Taking a deep breath in and letting the scent linger in her lungs, before letting it out. He wasn't lying, didn't smell aggressive, just apprehensive. Trusting her instincts, she took a chance and took the nervous boy by the hand. "The worse thing I could do is say no Harry Potter. Just tell me.

      That was the thing Harry was most afraid of; rejection. Wanting something so much and being denied it.  _The worse thing I could do is say no._   Those words terrified him. Taking a breath, Harry took some of his Gryffindor courage that he hasn't felt in a very long time, and jumped right into why he was there.

     "Teddy's my godson and I'd like to part of his life. My own godfather offered to take me in and be a family, but circumstances made that impossible. He was all I had after my parents death, and when he was murdered I had no one to call family again. But then Teddy Bear, here, was born and I was named his godfather, and I have that opportunity for a family again. But Teddy has something I never had. He has family still alive, he has you. I don't want to take him away from you, but I don't want to be parted from him either. So, I have a proposition for you. When my godfather was murdered he willed me his ancestral home. It's big and needs a lot of cleaning, but it has plenty of room for the three of us. Four if you count the house-elf. So, what do you say? Will you come live with me?"

     Andromeda was speechless. Here she was in financial distress, home literally about to be taken away from her, and with no living family capable of taking her and Teddy in, and this man, really a boy, sneaks into her home and her life with an Invisibility Cloak, and offers her sanctuary like the hero and savior he is. 

    Becoming apprehensive at her lack of words and fearing that Andromeda would not at least allow visitation rights to his godson, he rushed trying to convince her to allow him in some parts of Teddy's life. "Look, Andromeda...or if you'd rather stay here, I will pay your mortgage outright, the back amount and the full loan, no strings attached, all I ask is that I be apart of my godson's life...Please?!" Once more he broke down on a sob, "Please?" 

_The worse thing I could do is say no...the worse thing... the worse...say no...say no... no._

      "Yes!" Andromeda threw herself at Harry, clutching the distraught boy close to her bosom, "Yes, Harry love, yes. Teddy and I will stay with you." She said on a happy cry herself. 

 ------

        "Sirius Black, my cousin, was your godfather." Andromeda asked as she gave a tiny flick of her wand and said, "Pack" the drawers and wardrobe opened to allow for the escape of dozens of clothes items to zoom around, fold and pack themselves in multiple compartment chests, and spare suitcases. 

       "Yes, I didn't know until I was thirteen and he escaped Azkaban. Of course when I first saw him, I thought he was working with Voldemort, betrayed my parents, and was after revenge for killing his master. The whole world thought he had betrayed my parents, even one of Dad's closest friends, Remus. Remus would tell me stories about their adventures at Hogwarts, made me feel proud of them. He'd call me Prongslet or pup."

      "Prongslet that is an odd nickname to give someone." Andromeda mussed as she flicked her wand again. "Here you try, Harry love."

      "Well my Dad was an unregistered animagus. His animal form was a red stag. He got the name Prongs from the antlers, I guess...you know two prongs, three prongs and such." He said as he attempted to organize a pile of clean?...clothes, and failed. 

      "Oh that's interesting, did you know the Potter's had the antlers of a stag at the top of their family crest?" Andromeda questioned Harry. 

     "Well, no. I...er...don't know much about my family. Sirius and Remus were the only ones to really tell me anything helpful about them. Well actually Severus Snape was a friend of my mothers, hated my father, because he was actually the worst bully, despised me because of it. Rather unfairly." Harry said in conversation as they packed. "I couldn't believe it at first, I only ever heard good things about my father, and here was proof that my father was a worse bully than Draco Malfoy." Harry laughed. 

     "You know my nephew then, I can imagine that impersonation you did of him comes from experience. Are you friends?" 

      "Not hardly, Andromeda. we didn't get along at all. I am sorry, I actually forgot he was related to you. Narcissa Malfoy is your sister then?" 

       "We haven't spoken in person in over twenty years. We use to send secret letters back and forth, once or twice a year. I was disinherited. I lost my inheritance, my dowarey, my family. But when the Dark Lord rose to power again, they stopped. I haven't written to my sister in about three years. It's too late to resume contact anyway." Harry looked up questionly at the last part. "The whole Malfoy family was arrested for being Death Eaters."  

       "WAIT! WHAT? ALL THREE?" Harry shouted as his wand movement moved so violently that instead of packing the clothes, he flung them across the room. "Andromeda, what do I do? They can't go to Azkaban. Mrs. Malfoy saved my life, and Draco...Draco...well he just can't alright."

      "You really dislike my nephew, don't you?" She asked amused, not insulted in the least.

      "Like or dislike is not an issue here, Andromeda. He is a teenager, same as I, his thoughts and actions influenced by the people around him. He grew up in a house raised on prejustice pure-blood beliefs. I bet he hasn't even visited the muggle world, let alone be allowed to form his own opinion with parents like that."

     "Narcissa is not her husband, if you had known her outside the families sphere of influence you would have seen her in a different light." Andromeda defended her sister faithfully. 

     "I believe you Andromeda, Mrs. Malfoy saved my life. I believe people can change some, not completely, but some. It takes a lot to change a lifetime of prejustice." Harry confessed. "I want to save your sister and nephew, but what can I do?"

      Andromeda looked at Harry Potter;the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, Savior of the Wizarding World, and personal friends with the new Minister of Magic himself. All she said was, "You will find you are more influential than you know." 

     Harry shrugged off the praise not knowing how to take compliments very well. "Maybe I could write a letter to Kingsley, then. Maybe he could do me a favor. I'd owe him big time." Harry said.

      Andromeda reached around Harry's shoulders, noticing him stiffen in her grasp, pull him closer and place a kiss at the top of his temple. Hugging him briefly, chin on his head, and hummed soothingly, trying to calm his nerves like she would her own child or grandson or distressed omega. "You can do that once we have packed up here and settle in Grimmmmm-hch. huh?" Clearing her throat she tried again, "Grimmmollowowow, what?"

      "Oh, sorry Andromeda, here...give me a second..." Looking around for a scrap of parchment, ink and quill  before seeing an envelope and pen across the room. "Accio!" They zoomed into his hands and he hurriedly wrote down the address for the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. 

     "Very resourceful Harry, love." Andromeda praised. Harry ducked his head bashfully.

     "It wasn't me..." He mumbled. "anyway, if we are done here...KREACHER!" The house-elf appeared with a crack. 

      "Mistress Andra will be returning home with us, Master Harry Potter, sir? Young master, too?" Kreacher squeakily inquired. 

     "What? Kreacher...what happened to you...you look..you..." Speechless, Andromada trailed off.

      "Ol' Kreacher, look nice yes? Master Harry so nice to make Kreacher appear younger. Such a kind master. Now, he brings mistress and young master home with him. You done packing, I bring back." With a snap of his fingers, the room of trunks and suitcases disappeared. 

      "Kreacher, we will be delayed coming home, have dinner ready for us, say...six o'clock? We need to go to Gringotts first." Kreacher nodded his head eagerly as he too disappeared from the room.  
\------

      The snowy-white marble of Gringotts Wizarding Bank stood towering imposingly over the other shopfronts of the intersection between Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. The multistoried building is just a front for the miles of underground rails and high security vaults located beneath the streets of London. The grander the wealth, the larger the vaults, and deeper beneath the ground the vaults go, the higher the security there is. The bank is run by goblins, extremely greedy creatures that would protect their wealth by any means, and have a code that forbids them to speak the secrets of the treasures and protection within. The motto for the bank is  _Fortius Quo Fidelius_ , Latin for "Strength through loyalty"

      Many security measures are put in place to keep out would be thieves. For the lower security vaults a simple key is required. Medium security Vaults require a goblin to open the vault and if anyone other than a goblin tries to open the vault they would be sucked in. Higher security vaults require a goblin to open the door and may have a powerful creatures guarding the entrance, like Dragons or Sphinxes. They could also have a multitude of enchantments placed on the items inside the vaults, like the _Gemino_ and _Flagrante_ charm placed on them, such as with the Lestrange vaults. 

      The entrance of the bank is a small white marble steps that lead up to bronze doors, flanked by gold and red clad goblins. Inside the bank are two rows of goblins that flank the length of the lobby with hundreds of goblins standing guard, while others goblin clerks work the counters upfront. Upon the bronze doors is a rhyme that dissuaded thieves: 

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_  
_Of what awaits the sin of greed_  
_For those who take, but do not earn,_  
_Must pay most dearly in their turn._  
_So if you seek beneath our floors_  
_A treasure that was never yours,_  
_Thief, you have been warned, beware_  
_Of finding more than treasure there._  

      Harry shed his Invisibility Cloak once he entered the bank. Andromeda stood by his side with Teddy in her arms.The hundreds of goblins working in the bank stopped what they were doing to stare.  _Shite!_ _Thief, you have been warned, beware._ The walk up the aisle of goblins felt longer than the first trip he made at age eleven, and then a few months back, when he actually broke into Gringotts and stole an item from the vault of Bellatrix Lestrange. 

      "Awe...er...Andromeda, I have something to say that I forgot to mention before. I...uh...kinda broke into your sister's vault and stole an important Dark Artifact that needed to be destroyed in order to defeat Voldemort, and I can't say anything more about it right now...but see that giant hole in the roof, yeah...that was my escape route." Harry said in a rushed whisper. 

     Andromeda didn't say anything, she just briefly closed her eyes, then opened them on a snort and felt a wide wild smile grow on her face. She thought to herself, 'If I had to be indebted to someone, at least it's to someone unpredictable and definitely not boring, like Harry Potter.' Squeezing his shoulder once in silent support, leading him the rest of the way to the Head Clerks desk.

     The Head Clerk stopped counting a giant pile of Rubies, leaned over the top of his ledger, peering menacingly down at Harry from black beady-eyes.  "Mr. Potter, we goblins have been wondering when you would show your thieving neck here again." Jumping down from behind the counter, and rushing around the desk, the Head Clerk only stood at hip level, looking up at Harry and motioning him to silently follow him, he hurried away. 

     Andromeda didn't know if she was suppose to follow as well, but she certainly wasn't going to miss out on the excitement. Nymphadora took after her mother more than Harry ever knew before. They rushed down winding corridors, left-right-left again, 'what? Did they pass that gargoyle before?' 

      Harry and Andromeda stopped nearly tripping over each other, or else crash into the goblin who stopped in front of a large circular stone door. Raising his finger he carefully traced an unrecognizable rune into the stone and watched like the entrance to Diagon Alley from the back of the Leaky Cauldron, brick began to shift and flip in on themselves slowly forming a wide arching doorway. "Enter."

      Harry swallowed, hesitating on entering, before turning to Andromeda, kissing Teddy once on the forehead, his hair a brilliant turquoise. He squared his shoulders and walked into the room. Inside was a room made of stone, it was cold and torches lining the room was the only source of light. Maps and scrolls lay on ever flat surface bare, jewels of untold riches acting as paperweights. 

      "Awe, if it isn't famous Harry Potter," a voice that sounded like dried twigs and leaves, spoke from a desk stacked high with books as tall as his shoulders. Peeking around the corner carefully, not wanting to walk head first into an attack, but something compelled him to move forward and face his consequences.

      The voice belonged to a very old and wrinkly goblin with gold, jewels of multiple colors, and even beads that she- for it was perhaps the only female goblin Harry had ever met, wore from head to toe. She looked very regal and imposing sitting just over his head. Her eyes were also a milky white, with no pupils, the female goblin was blind. 

      "Welcome, Mr. Potter. It is a great honor to have the great savior in my humble bank." Harry was confused, was the female goblin being sarcastic, or was she leading him into some type of sense of security before locking him underground for him to starve to death, perhaps become a ghost to haunt the underground walls of Gringotts. His imagination was going wild with possibilities, he tried to whirl his attention back to the very serious matter at hand. 

     "Awe Mr. Potter, you have a very active imagination. Please continue your little fantasy. What would the goblins call Harry Potter the ghost, who haunts these walls? Harry-The-Boy-Who-...well didn't live to see the light of day again, is a little dramatic, won't you say?"

     "Did you just..."

     "Read your mind?...Yes Mr. Potter I have. I was born with no sight, but that gave me an even greater Sight. I see into your mind, I assess your honor. I know what you have done, why you did it, and why you are here now."

      Harry was very overwhelmed. He didn't know what to expect. He had momentarily had a lapse in memory, when he offered to pay off Andromeda's loans in the wizarding world. Did he even have access to his own vault? What type of retribution would the goblins take for breaking into Gringotts, stealing an artifact, releasing a dragon from the lower levels, and destroying the ceiling. 

       "On the contrary Mr. Potter, as chieftess of the United Kingdom, representing all goblinkind, I would like to off you thanks." The chieftess of goblinkind had a very expressive face, despite being blind. "You see, although you indeed broke into my bank, stole Helga Hufflepuff's Cup from the Lestrange vault, and destroyed it along with the Dark Magic placed within."

     A strangled gasp came from behind Harry, and he spun around to see Andromeda clutching Teddy to her chest. Harry immediately reacted, started to her side before halting at her next words. 

      "You destroyed Helga Hufflepuff's Cup? How? Why?" She got out. 

      "And Salazar Slytherin's Locket, and the Lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw" The Chieftess added helpfully. 

      'This boy...outrageous...what will he do next?' she thought to herself as swayed Teddy close to her chest.

      "When Tom Riddle as Lord Voldemort took over the Ministry of Magic, he also took over many positions in Gringotts that rightfully belonged to goblinkind. There certainly would have been a third goblin war if humans did not return Gringotts back to the hands of the goblins. So first off, thank you for defeating Lord Voldemort, and returning Gringotts to its natural owners." Did Harry really do all that, end two Wizarding Wars and prevent a third Goblin War?

      "Secondly, the item you took was a dark artifact that was actually corrupting the magic of the ley lines that the bank was built on, when you removed it many of gringotts natural defences were strengthen as was the magic we goblins possess. I ensure you, breaking in to and getting away with stolen treasure will not be possible in the future, by anyone, let alone you again." The chieftess gave Harry a stern look, and Harry had no control of his facial muscles as he gave an impish smile in return, before grimacing.

      "In addition to healing the ley lines, the Cup, although made by goblins,was defiled by Dark Magic, then belonged to Voldemort because of..." The chieftess looked over at Andromeda, hesitating on saying this last part, but Harry immediately understood and in that split second, decided to trust Andromeda. 

      "The cup held a soul fragment of Voldemort himself, and thus belonged to him."

       "Well in any case, it would have naturally gone to you when you won all his possessions in a Wizard's duel. As for the dragon, we have wanted to get rid of the dragon as part of the Fair and Humane Treatment of Natural Born Creatures Blood Act, but as it was hatched from an egg within the Lestrange vault, it would be impossible for him to survive in the wild; plus the Lestranges refused to get rid of the dragon. The ceiling, on the other hand, you will pay for out of one of your vaults."   

     "I'm sorry ma'am...uh...Chieftess, don't I just have the one vault?" Harry timidly spoke up, not wanting to invoke the goblin's chieftess wrath. 

    She sat back, clasped her fingers together over her belly, and said "You Mr. Harry Potter have had a great disservice done to. The vault you are aware of, vault 687, is a simple trust vault set in place by your parents, granted to you when you turned eleven, for school supplies and other miscellaneous purchases, it was essentially an allouence that would have come to you, anyway. It is in fact, not your entire inheritance. According to your father's will, you should have been made full benefactor of the Potters' vault, vault 704, as the last living male descendants of the House of Potter. entirely upon your seventeenth birthday, and a trustee watched over you wealth until you came of age. Your third vault was inherited from Sirius Black, vault 711."

       She shuffled some parchment around, with dainty metal rimmed glasses perched on her rather long, warty, and wrinkly nose, not looking up at the shellshocked Potter boy. "Awe! Here we are. Your trustee was...Sirius Black, your named godfather...why didn't he...oh, I see." She lifted what appeared to be an extended note attached to the original, and set aside her glasses and resumed the hands on her belly pose once more. "Sirius Black was put in that Wizard prison, Azkaban. Fortunately for you, Gringotts does not operate by wizard rule but goblin." Pausing in thought, milky eyes staring off into space, unseeing, yet seeing all.

      "Have you heard of Entailed Estate, Mr. Potter? No I can see that you don't. The Townhouse that you inherited was supposed to be passed down to the eldest surviving Black male, as was the vault. If there was no male left in the lineage, it would have been passed down to the eldest surviving Black female. In this case, this should have been Bellatrix Lestrange. I am sure if Entailed Estate was not enforced by goblin binding magic, Sirius Black would never had inherited the house or high security vault 711. Not wanting the house and money to land in the hands of Lord Voldemort, formally known as Tom Riddle, he was able to find a loophole. naming you as the Black heir in his Last Will and Testament, instead of his cousin and faithful supporter of Voldemort." 

      "The Black heir, but...but, I know I inherited the money, the house, and Kreacher, but..."

     "You inherited the name, Mr. Potter. You may not go by the name Black or your full legal name as many young witches and wizards choose not to do so, as Nymphadora Tonks," with a nod towards Andromeda, "went by simply Tonks. For all cases and purposes, you are a now a Black. Therefore you own two high security vaults, and one trust account. "

      Harry was still struggling with the concept of him being a Black, 'does that mean I have to change my name, would my parents be disappointed if I no longer went by Potter? And what does she mean by my full name, as if Harry James Potter, as he knew himself to be, wasn't his real name?'

     "Now, now Mr. Potter, don't get upset, a title is just a title. Did you know that while the name Potter is in fact a very common English name, it was corrupted from one of your ancestors hobbies?" With a nod of confirmation the chieftess went on. "Yes your ancestor full name was Linfred of Stinchcombe in the twelfth century, he was quite good with herbology and potion making, and because friends and family would often see him pottering around the garden, they called him the Potterer." 

      Harry was trying to absorb as much information as possible, but knew that he would have to get a Pensive to re-watch all these memories again.  The Chieftess goblin was shuffling yet another stack of papers around in front of her, when a motion out of his peripheral vision caught his eye. It was another goblin with two humans following in toe. Wide eyed, Harry realized it was Bill Weasley and his wife, Fleur. The Chieftess ignored there presents though, and Harry was forced to so as well. Taking out some parchment, she handed over some documents, " here is a quick rundown of some of your estates, investment, net worth; you'll see we already deducted the payment of damages when you broke into the vault, the escape, and Death Gratuity of the families of goblins killed during the breakout." With a rye smile the chieftess continued. "You have made some goblins very happy, indeed Mr. Potter. You, are responsible for the payment not your two friends, as they currently do not hold an account with us, and we goblins know they could never afford it anyway." 

      Harry shrugged, he wasn't going to argue, he can see the fairness of the goblins actions, it was all neatly and easily listed, and summarized at the bottom of the top document. As long as his friends didn't get punished for what was his idea anyway he was fine with however much he had to pay. Turning the page over, Harry nearly swallowed his tongue at the amount of galleons in millions listed in his vault. Ocean waves crashing into his eardrums was loud in his ears as he faintly hear the chieftess continue.

     "On that page, you will notice that I have personally signed and notarized your vault net worth for just your trust account. It is not linked to any investments, and doesn't collect interest as your other two vaults do. The only other items of worth in there is your birth certificate and some journals by your parents you may like to look through. There is a lot of power in knowing who you are."  He'd better take a look at his birth certificate, then hadn't he.  'Did his aunt and uncle even have a birth certificate for him? Did Dumbledore give them one. How did he even register for primary school?'

     "The third page includes the Potters' vault, it collects interest and royalties from multiple investments over the past centuries that keep filling the coffers. You are seventeen and can now review and withdraw whatever moneys you wish to. Your own investment you made in '96 with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is just a small portion of the investments, Potters' over the centuries have contributed to the coffers. For instance two well known healing potions was invented by your ancestor, Linfred, invented Skell-gro and pepperup potion, while your own grandfather, Fleamont, invented the  magical Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion with slogan, ' _two drops tames even the most bothersome barnet’_  . Haha, I do say the Potters' do have the most unnatural disheveled hair. "hem-hem" the Chieftess cleared her throat, " The Potters' vault is usually accessible by all Potter's with one primary benefactor as the heir, but seeing as you are the last, the whole content of the vault, and properties now belong to you."

      "With that said, your grandfather managed to quadruple the Potter fortune, and they have only grown immensely since the Battle of Hogwarts. Hmm..." The Chieftess stopped talking on a thoughtful hum, "It appears that Tom Riddle was growing his own coffers, through unseemly means, sphypherng money from his followers, the Malfoy's included.You now have possession of nearly ninety percent of their fortune. These will have to be addressed soon. It could be a mute point, but I have a feeling Harry Potter doesn't stand for injustice in the world, which is one of the reasons you are here today." She looked down at Harry, well in the general direction of him anyway. 

     "I uh...er...Yes," Snapping out of his stupor, "you are correct. If Andromeda wasn't disowned when she married a muggle-born, she would have been entitled to her inheritance. I would like to give what is due to her back, as the grandmother of my godson, she must be taken care of financially. I'd like to assume her debts and pay them off in full, if I am able to...Chieftess." He tacked on at the end, not wanting to sound insufferable. "And awe..Teddy Bear here, I would like to make my heir, if that is possible. I mean Sirius was able to do so with me, and Teddy is my godson, can't I do the same?"

     "You may do that yes, it is a simple thing to do, to draw up a contract, which is why Mrs. Weasley is here to go over those documents." Fleur stepped forward and handed Harry a piece of parchment, quill and ink.

     "'ello 'Arry, you're doing better, yes?" 

      "Hi Fleur, thank you for all you have done for me, this last year." Harry replied before turning his attention to the paperwork at hand. 

     "Before you sign those papers, I must add that you may be able to change full benefactory if you produce a blood heir. As of right now, you are the benefactory of the Potter and Black vaults, but if young Edward Remus Lupin had been born before Sirius Black wrote his will, Entailed Estate clause would have seen to it that Teddy inherit the Black vault instead. You can change these documents to reflect an even split between the vaults, so any rivalries won't develop over who inherits what. Would you like a general contract of what we just discussed drawn up now, and changes can be added on at any time?" 

      Harry never considered what would happen if he got married and had children with a wife of his own. He just wanted to make sure that he took his responsibilities as a godfather seriously, and provide for his godson. Could he just hand over the Black estate to Teddy, and leave the Potter vault to his own children? What if he died before having any children? He always wanted a family, had even considered a future with Ginny before he split up with her, in what he believed was protecting her. Now he didn't even know if he even wanted to get back together with her. He could honestly say, he hadn't thought of her that often while hunting Horcruxes. 'Does that mean I never loved her to begin with, only the idea of what we could have together, a family?'  _A Family, Andromeda's family!_

       "What were you saying about the Malfoy's?"

      "As I said before the Malfoy's are a mute point. If they all go to Azkaban, you keep the remainder of the fortune in your vault. If they somehow are found not guilty, then they can fight for the gold that is rightfully theirs."

      "They can have all their gold back, I don't want any gold that was obtained through any shady businesses, that includes Voldemort stealing from his followers, willingly or otherwise."

      "That will have to be decided after the trial. I'll have one of my employees show you to your vaults, so you can withdraw some gold" Looking around her own pile of books, and said "...Awe Mr. Weasley, come here." Bill Weasley stepped up to the Chieftess' desk. "You'll help Mr. Potter set up a Muggle Bank account at Our Ally Banking, to exchange gold for muggle currency. I believe you know how to get around the pesky muggle rule of needing to be at least eighteen to open one, yes. Alright, go, go. I am a very busy goblin I have a whole bank to run world wide. " Apparently that was them being dismissed. So as quickly as possible Andromeda with the still resting Teddy in her arms, and Harry following at her heels, rushed out of the room before the brick wall could fold in on itself once more. Right before the final bricks went back into their proper places, Harry heard the chieftess shout, "Oh, Mr. Potter, do remember to grab your birth certificate, it will be needed to set up your muggle bank account. And one last thing, Mr. Weasley worked as a Curse Breaker in Egypt, dismantling all types of boobytraps in the ruins of ancient Carro, he might be able to help you with a certain spectre in your home." 

     And with a final brick shoved back into place, the chieftess goblin disappeared behind a wall of solid brick.  

\------

     The day wasn't even over yet, and Harry was already exhausted. Harry swears the goblin running his cart went on an extra long roller coaster ride, that at age eleven he thought was exhilarating but seven years later, thought it was some kind of sick revenge for what happened a few months past. They stopped first at vault 689, his trust vault with Bill's instruction took multiple bags of gold galleons to be exchanged for muggle pounds. Before he left he hunted the vault for what the Chieftess had told him to find; his birth certificate. He found it packed away in a small trunk with dragonhide bound journals, his fathers, and muggle composition notebooks, his mother's. He took the whole trunk with him and didn't open it again before Andromeda and Teddy were settled in their new rooms. 

       Just after dinner Harry sat in  _his_ study, for he could finally stop referring to everything as Sirius's, and look over the contents of the trunk. He pulled out a stuffed lion plush, and a soft baby blanket with gold snitches zooming around. Were these his when he was a baby? In any case he wanted to give them to Teddy.  

      "Harry, love? What are you doing?" Andromeda's voice startled him out of thought.

     "Awe, Sorry Andromeda. I was going to sit down at write that letter to Kingsley, but what the goblin Chieftess said, got me wondering...so I found my birth certificate."

     "You don't look like a man that got all the answers he was looking for."

      Harry looked up at her with a tight smile, and a humorless laugh. "Well, I never saw my birth certificate before, and in the muggle world you cant even go to primary school without having one. My aunt and uncle lied to me about my parents, how they died...it really shouldn't surprise me about them not telling me who I am. For seventeen years, I've known myself to be Harry James Potter, but I know that to be a lie, I'm trying to find out what my parents expected of me. I found my mums journal, her baby name research. she took so much care in choosing my name." Harry took another sip of Bourbon that Kreacher provided. Andromeda stood there. She didn't know what to do to cheer up the depressed boy in front of her. Maybe if she could get him to talk to her instead of wallowing in self pity. 

    "May I sit with you? We could go through the journals together."

    "Did you know I was named after my great grandfather?" Andromeda hummed her acknowledgement. "His name was Henry, but anyone close to him knew him as Harry." He continued to explain as Andromeda listened in silence. "His brother was married to a Black, Dorea."

     "Dorea and Charlus Potter, yes I am aware of their names, but they were burned off the tapestry, disinherited as I was for marrying someone my parents didn't approve of."

      "Well that's all going to change soon. I wrote that letter to Kingsley. I hope he owls soon. I was never very good at speeches or letters before, will you read over my draft I prepared for testimony? I don't think I can make it in person."

      "Of course, Love. Why wont you go in person to their trial?"

       "If I go for one, then I would be expected to testify for all. I don't want to be in out in public anymore than I have to. Here." He said as he handed over the letter he prepared in advance, just in case the Minister of Magic came through. 

       Andromeda carefully read over the letter, both appalled and amused at his chicken scratch handwriting. Before pausing at the bottom of the letter. His name hastily scratched out and rewritten.

      "My mum's idea. My name, I mean." He said as he reached over and took back the draft. He thought of the only time he had seen his name written not by someone in the muggle world, when he received his Hogwarts letters. All it said was Mr. H. Potter. How was he supposed to know his name was spelled any different. His aunt probably knew, and changed it to the "normal" and "non-freakish" spelling.

        'Honor my heritage' it said in her journals, 'with a twist'. It went on into further details, about how she changed the spelling, but the pronunciation is similar. Hari, spelled with one 'R' and and 'I', Hah-ree. A true Gryffindor name, sanskrit meaning Lion." Reading out loud his mothers notes, he continued. "Could also mean king; natural born leader, commander, and independent. Passionate and compassionate, charismatic with magnetic personality, and a romantic. The one who removes troubles, blockage, pain, slavery and sin. A savior." He finished closing the journal, but not before Andromeda saw that Lily had circled the word savior several times over. 

      "She knew." Andromeda whispered hoarsely. 

       "I was born while my parents were in hiding. She must have known about the prophecy. She knew my due date was near the end of July or the beginning of August. The prophecy said, 'born as the seventh month dies. According to my birth certificate I was born two minutes to midnight on 31st of July."  

       Harry was brooding, something she noticed he liked to do a lot, but something else was wrong. "That's not all that bothers you."

       "My mum was pregnant when she died. She was confident it was a girl, and had a named picked out for her and everything." Silent tears ran down Harry's face as he grieved for the sibling he never knew he almost had.  Andromeda wrapped her arms around Harry holding him tight, as she also silently grieved for the life of her own daughter, cruelly taken away by the war. 

      "What was her name...I mean that your mother picked out for her?" Harry wiped his eyes and pointed to how it was spelled in his mothers journal.

      "Mry Petunia...after my aunt Petunia...its Egyptian for beloved. Beloved Petunia!" Harry spat out bitterly. "Let me tell you something; my Aunt Petunia envied my mother and loathed me for it. She didn't take me in out of the kindness of her heart, no. She took me in and made sure to tell me every single day of my existence how grateful I was not to have been left in an orphanage; for them to have provided a roof over my head, the clothes on my back, and to beg for the scraps of food from their table...So yeah, 'Beloved' my arse." 

       Andromeda didn't know what to say to the angry and hurt boy sitting in her arms. Luckily she didn't have to. They both felt the shift in the wards. Someone was trying to come in through the Floo Network and they were not authorized to come through. The wards were letting them know of that intrusion. 

       Kreacher appeared in front of them with a startling crack of a whip. "Master Harry, Master Harry. It's the new Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. He's angry for not being allowed in sir, demands to speaks with you." Kreacher spoke up in a high pitched voice. 

     "Okay Kreacher, take me to the Floo network." With another crack, this one expected, Harry and Kreacher disappeared away. Andromeda was left in the study surrounded by the Potter's personal artifacts and thought, 'Darn, I wanted to be there when the Minister gave Harry exactly what he wanted.'

      In the kitchen located in the basement of Grimmauld Place, Harry stood in front of the fireplace connected to the Floo network. The fire was blazing an angry green, and bars of green fire barred the entrance from letting Kingsley into the townhouse. 

 

 

      "What is the meaning of his Harry, why am I barred from entry?" Kingsley booming voice came from the fireplace. 

     "Ah, sorry Kingsley... I mean Minister Shacklebolt. I just wanted privacy. I'll let you in, just a minute." He said as he hastily opened the Floo network to temporarily allow guests in. 

      Kingsley Shacklebolt an imposing man of over six feet of African flesh in Wizards robes stepped through the fireplace, dusted off his hat looked down at Harry Potter and said, "What is this letter about wanting to free the Malfoy's from prison?"

      "Not all the Malfoy's. Just Narcissa and Draco. Lucius can suffer the Dementor's kiss, he has already escaped justice twice now."

     "Alright, Potter. Convince me."

      And so only stuttering a few times in the beginning, not expecting he would have to speak with the Minister of Magic in person instead of by owl, Harry launched into an impromptu speech on how Narcissa Malfoy and her son Draco Malfoy should have all charges dropped against them. When he was done, apprehensive about his success, and out of breath and painting; Harry waited expectantly for Kingsley response. 

     "If you want Narcissa and Draco Malfoy released from prison, you'll have to go through the proper channels. First you'll need..." 

      When the Minister of Magic left 12 Grimmauld Place an hour later, Harry felt lighter than ever. For the first time since the war had ended he wasn't going to have to see another family torn apart. He was going to save their lives, for Teddy. Andromeda would have a chance to be with her sister, and Teddy would have a family again; in his grandmother, great aunt, and cousin. Things were looking up. 

\------                     

      On the sixth of June, Narcissa Malfoy and her son, Draco with the aid off their two house-elves Dot and Kokoa, disapperated to Kings Cross Station, a day earlier than expected. They were hidden behind a glamour and Notice-Me-Not charm so the Muggles going about their early morning rush to work, wouldn't see them arrive. They and their luggage walked right out into Muggle London unnoticed. The ancestral home of the Black's was only a few short blocks and a twenty minute fast-footed walk from the station.  

      The townhouse was heavily warded, to keep Muggles and unwanted Wizardkind out, hidden under a Fidelius charm. For some unspoken reason Harry Potter wanted them to come into the place through the Secret entrance. Narcissa had forgotten all about the secret entrance, it was rarely used. The Secret entrance was located in the back alley, along a brick wall that was taller than her son who stood a nearly a foot above herself. If you weren't paying attention, you'd miss the strange floral like border graffiti that outlined the entrance similar to Platform nine and three-quarters. Letting the house-elves walk in ahead of them, Narcissa took a quick hold of her too eager son, before he could do something rash.

     Draco was still in the throes of his rut, and without Narcissa taking him to task he might do something rash and ruin their chances at a safe place to call home. She didn't know why Potter had offered them sanctuary, but she knew from the letter he wrote to the whole Wizengamot that he didn't think too fondly of her son. Her son, unfortunately had a mild infatuation and secret crush on the Potter boy for years now. 

     Draco knew all to well why his mother was stopping him. He didn't trust himself and his new instincts anymore than she. His highly arousing and disturbing dream from the night before was any indication of how far his alpha will go to satisfy its base desires scared him.  

    Voicing his worries out loud he said, "Mother...what do I do? I don't know if I can control my alpha instincts. What if I hurt him? Or...Oh Merlin, I could embarrass myself in front of him, and he'll never take me serious again" 

     Amused at her son, "Mon Petite, I do not think you have to worry about embarrassing yourself anymore than you have before, he couldn't possibly think any less of you than he already does, and he's never thought serious of you before other than believing rightly that you joined the Death Eaters."

       "Thanks mother. For those very encouraging words of advice." Draco drawled out sarcastically.

        "Don't give me any lip, Dragon, and listen carefully. You are in pre-rut, which means its not at its strongest yet. As long as there is no one of  _age_." She emphasised this last part. "Just like the  _Trace_ on underage witches and wizards doing magic outside school and wizard homes, _ice-blood_ will cool off your _eroticism."_ She said, eyeing his crotch. 

      "Mother!" He hissed embarrassed, but her words did manage to calm his nerves.  _I_ _ce-blood,_ was a spell placed on all underaged witches and wizards that prevented pedifolia, succesfully preventing underage marriages and adults in authority preying on children, like educators or medical professionals. It also protected minors from juvenile alphas like himself, who couldn't yet control their alpha gene from preying on minors during rut season. Harry Potter would be safe from his unwanted advances, at least until he turned eighteen. _Ice-Blood_ presumably worked better than a cold shower.               

        In the garden, unaware of the argument going on just beyond the south facing brick wall next to the shed; the object of their discussion was relaxing in the early morning sun, spread out on the large green lawn. The last two weeks he had been kept busy cleaning out the rest of the rooms, awaiting the arrival of the Malfoy's. He wasn't about to present a filthy house to the Malfoy's to live in and like hell was he going to give Draco Malfoy the opportunity to sneer at him. _Why the hell do I care what they think, anyway?_  

        _Because, they are Teddy's family and if you want to be in his life you have to get along with his family_ , the rational part of his brain explained. 

      He didn't know when they would even show up, or if they would come. He had only written one letter to Narcissa, deciding she would be the better recipient than her son and his rival in school; offering them sanctuary if they so desired. But that didn't mean they would even come or choose to stay. But he had seen the papers and read every accusation out there about their so called involvement with Dark Magic, most he knew to be lies. Harry found himself feeling sorry for Draco. He was cleared, thanks to Harry, but that didn't mean he was guiltless and people still hated Draco and his mother for their name, their blood status, and being on the losing side of the war. For some it didn't matter if they were acquitted, in their eyes they were guilty, and would blame them for a number of different things. He'll be giving them a second chance.

      Right as he said that, he felt a shift in the wards once more, not to different from when Kingsley tried to Floo in. The main difference being, they were invited in and the wards will automatically accept them. The reason he had Kingsley tell them the secret entrance was because Mad-Eye Moody's booby-trap was still at guard at the front door, and it was a pain. Bill Weasley said he'll come by in a few days and sort it out, he tried a number of things that same day he, Andromeda, and Teddy visited the bank. And wasn't that a trip all on its own. He now had access to his wizards gold at Gringotts and access to Muggle money he put in an account with Our Ally Banking, and he now had a London Driver's License, Passport, and fancy high end credit card with the names Hari J. Potter on them. 

      The first to walk through surprisingly were two house-elves toeing a series of trunks via levitation charms.  _Did they walk all the way here like that?_ Harry thought astonished. The two house-elves saw him, squeaked in surprise when they saw him lying on the grass in the sun. "You be Master Harry Potter, sir? I is Dot, this is Kokoa, Master Draco and Mistress Narcissa's house-elves. Where does Master wish us to store their things." Dot had the courage to speak up first and ask. 

       Harry Smiled, "KREACHER!" he shouted as he slowly sat up, but not getting up off the ground. When his own house-elf appeared, he continued, "This is Dot and Kokoa. Please show them where to put Mal...ah...Draco's and Mrs. Malfoy's trunks. Also show them to the attic where they will be staying." For once Kreacher didn't respond just did as told. Harry waited for the other two to come from around the shed, when they didn't appear right away he frowned contemplating going out to great them, worried that perhaps they were ambushed. But he held back a moment, his wards would have told him if more than just the Malfoy's tried to enter the back alley. 

       Just as he was contemplating getting up, a platinum blonde head appeared beneath a canopy of  _cercis reniformis_   _Oklahoma_ pink-red blooms. The tall willowy blonde in powder blue dress robes looked around in awe at the magical garden that appeared out of nowhere from a back alley in London. She said something over her shoulder, presumably to her son, Draco who still stood out of sight, but the wind caught the words and blew them out of Harry's ear shot. She gathered a bunch of fabric to step over a circular ledge onto the gravel pathway when she saw Harry sitting in the grass. 

      Forgetting formality, she lifted her skirts giving her enough room to run, and rushed through the grass to fall over Harry in an excited heap, hugging him. She was babbling in French, the only words he knew were "Merci, Monsieur Potter, Merci". She then gave him first one kiss on the right cheek, then the left, and a brief peck on the lips. Harry was stunned at seeing this usually rigid and cold women, so full of emotions. 

     Harry smiled up at Narcissa Malfoy, and for the first time in over a week he was glad that he made that decision to invite her to Grimmauld Place. Harry's Smile brought Narcissa out of her giddy school girl like response and stood up, straightening the wrinkles in her robes and clearing her throat. "Thank you, Mister Potter for allowing us into your home. I assure you, my son and I will be on our best behavior."

     Harry just grinned wider, white teeth flashing against sun tanned skin and emerald eyes the rivaled the lush greenery of the magical garden, said "No problem, Mrs. Malfoy. Call me Hari, Please. And I have one more surprise for you inside." He said tilting his head slightly back and over his shoulder towards the patio doors.

      Intrigued at the idea of another surprise, she patted Harry's cheek absentmindedly murmured, "Call me Narcissa" and walked the rest of the the way through the grass, not bothering with the pathway. Smiling Harry was looking over his shoulder at Narcissa and didn't see Draco emerge around the shed he hid behind when shockingly, his mother ran to embrace Hary on the lawn. 

      Hari looked beautiful sitting on the grass, sunbathing like some kind of siren, the sunlight filtered through leaves sparkling like diamonds around him. Draco took in the sight, the sounds, the scents. His inner alpha Dragon whispered through his mind, _My mate._ Taking a deep breath, eagerly seeking out the scent he so desired, but only smelling the sweet nectar of honeysuckle, jasmine, lilac, wisteria, rose, and cosmos, with the unmistaken smell of snow. Frustrated that he couldn't make out his desires scent from the vibrant garden surrounding him, he stepped out into the open grassy yard. 

      Hari turned his head to look at him, the smile disappearing on his face. Shadow cast over on his sun bronzed skin, and Draco realized he was blocking the light, looming over Harry like a predator about to devour his unsuspecting prey. Draco reached down his hand to offer Harry a hand up. _Yes, take my hand so that I can never let it go again_ , his inner alpha implored silently in the back of his mind. 

     Hesitating only for a moment, Harry reached up to feel Draco's smooth but strong grasp take hold of him and haul him to his feet seamlessly. But he didn't let go right away. Harry tilted his head to the side in question,"Well, where's my welcome?" He said with a teasing white toothed smile. 

       Draco's eyes, gray rimmed in dark lashes looked deep into Harry's eyes. Carefully as to assess his reaction, Draco bent his head, kissing first one cheek, then the other. Pausing to stare once more into eyes a startling green. Harry's pink, moist looking lips were parted in silent surprise. Taking the uninvited, Draco grasped Harry's chin between pointer and thumb as his lips captured Harry's in a gentle but firm kiss. Swirling his tongue around Harry's once on the departure, he stepped back shivering and brushed passed Harry on his way to the open patio doors, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. As he passed, he whispered in Harry's ear, "Thanks, Potter." 

   On the inside Draco was cursing himself. His alpha just had to have the taste of the forbidden and his body was paying the price. The moment he pressed his lips against Harry's a slight tingling sensation started at the point of contact, then as he deepened the kiss, the tingling intensified to an icy hot burn, forcing him to relinquish his hold. His lips blue with cold, the forbidden taste of snow on his tongue. Draco wiped at his lips trying to hide the color, as he shivered as icy shards raced through his blood, his libido instantly died, and his alpha dragon immediately backed down in defeat. Embarrassed at his actions and wanting a quick retreat, be brushed passed Harry, but not before remembering he was supposed to thank Harry for inviting them to live at Grimmauld Place. Hoarsely getting out his thanks, he fled up the two steps to the patio terrace. 

     Harry was stunned speechless, _What the hell was that?_   _He just...Draco just kissed me, then wiped his mouth like it was something vile._  He didn't know if his cheeks were red more from embarrassment or anger, but he swirled around ready to confront him for it, when he heard Narcissa scream and Andromeda shrieking.

     Draco heard his mother scream, and frightened he sped up, running the final two feet into the house and stopped in his tracks, "mo..." the word dying on his lips. Harry rushed in behind him to see the joyous reunion himself. Narcissa and Andromeda had each other by their forearms as the jumped and twirled in each others arms, shrieking their laughter, and tears running down their cheeks. 

     A gurgling noise drew Draco's attention to a pillow placed on a four cushion couch, beneath a landscape painting of swirling shades of greens, grays, blues, and pinks. A baby was fussing beneath, and Harry was already in motion, carefully picking up the baby and hugged it to his cheek. Turning himself and the baby's face to Draco's surprised ones. Draco saw the baby's eyes; black, and hair; turquoise, and Harry's own emerald eyes sparkling, cheeks red, and grin wide.

    Harry said, "Surprise!"   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys and gals,
> 
> Yeah it's me, I am back! Sorry for the long, long, very long wait. Hope this super duper long chapter is worth the wait. 
> 
> So, here you have it, the Black family reunion! There is a little over a month in the story before Harry's first heat, so what does that mean for the direction of the story? Not in this particular order mind you:
> 
> Hari owns Sirius's flying motorcycle so I see Draco riding behind, no side-cart for him.  
> Draco and Harry go get new wands together.  
> Draco gets an awesome new haircut.  
> I am thinking they visit a nightclub.  
> Hari looks good in eyeliner  
> Hari sees Draco naked and scaly. ;)  
> Hari has THE TALK with Narcissa.
> 
> So readers, how about it. Throw out a few ideas you would like to see happen, and I'll fit them in. Sound good?
> 
> Please comment below!
> 
> Stay Awesome!
> 
> Sincerely_Devra
> 
> p.s. Chapter 2 of Pulling Strings, Behind the Scenes is finally updated and hopefully glitch free. Check it out.


	6. Bizarre Family Dynamics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's still in what I am calling a pre-rut since its his first rut. What does that mean for him, Hari, his mother, aunt, and baby second cousin?  
> -I'm thinking that is too many people to have around when all Draco wants to do is lock himself in his room... with Hari. Poor Draco!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wonderful World of Harry Potter, the characters and images all belongs to the amazing mind of J.K. Rowling and no copyright infringement was intended in the creation of this fan fiction.

       ' _Potter looks fucking hot!'_ Or at least that is what Draco thought as he watched his long time school rival and secret crush holding a two month old baby up to his face and saying, surprise. ' _Surprise. I must be dreaming.'_ It was the only explanation. ' _No way Potter can look that good holding a baby, can he? '_ It could just be his pre-rut hormones on overdrive, making up hallucinations about having a baby, _getting Potter pregnant, seeing Potter round with his kits._ Blinking hard trying to get the vision out of his head. ' _Nope, still hot and still holding a baby.'_

        He didn't know whose the baby was, and as long as it wasn't Potter's secret love child with Weaslette Draco would even admit that the baby was adorable, too. Even if Potter was practicing hair color treatments on it. Then he blinked long and hard when the baby's hair sudden changed from bright turquoise to soft lavender. ' _What?'_ Draco was completely stunned. He never saw a metamorphmagus before. 

     "This adorable little guy is my godson, Edward Remus Lupin." Harry said in a baby voice that was disturbing when his deranged Aunt Bellatrix did it, but did something else completely for Draco when Potter spoke like that to his godson. Then he did something that freaked him out. He walked right over to him, ignored his halted breath and stiffening shoulders and placed the slightly squirming baby into his arms. "Malfoy, meet your cousin, well second cousin, actually. This is your Aunt Andromeda's grandson, Edward. We call him Teddy. Teddy Bear" Harry said affectionately to his godson, "meet your cousin, Draco. I hope you two get along, but if you throw up on him that would be a riot." 

      Draco looked into his laughing green eyes, stunned, too shocked to be offended by Potter's words. He didn't know where to place his arms let alone his eyes as he kept glancing back and forth between his second cousin and Potter. He was so close, just inches away. His alpha was rolling around in giddy delight at hearing his name being spoken softy by Potter's soft lips. And Draco _knew_ what they felt like, pillowy soft and moist, the  _ice-blood_ not taking away the too brief blissful memory. Thanks to his dragon inheritance Draco stood a full head and shoulders above Harry where as before it was mere inches.  Luckly, Potter was smiling down at Teddy in his arms and didn't see the slightly panicked expression he had on his face. 

     Andromeda and Narcissa who paused in their mad chatter, looked over at the exchange. Andromeda looked on in approval, taking delight in the exchange, not noticing at first the tension building within her nephew. Narcissa on the other hand, was well intune with her son's moods, saw the tense shoulders and panicked look and went to her son's rescue. Speaking in rapid fire French, "Mon Dragon, se détendre. Prenez une profonde respiration de l'odeur fraîche et froide de la neige et laissez-le travailler c'est magique. Respirer."  _My dragon, relax. Take a deep breath of the fresh and cold smell of snow and let it work it's magic. Breathe._  

     Andromeda caught on immediately. "Un alpha. Nouvellement présenté." _A_ _n alpha, newly presented._

     "Oui et mon cher fils a été épris de l'enfance du Potter depuis des années maintenant. Il a peur de perdre le contrôle autour de lui. Je lui ai assuré que tant qu'il est mineur rien ne peut arriver." Y _es and my dear son has been infatuated with the Potter child for years now. He's afraid of losing control around him. I assured him that as long as he's a minor nothing can happen._

     His mother's and aunts secret conversation spoken in French is what drew Draco out of his panic. "S'll vous plaît, mere assez. Tu me fais honte devant ta soeur. Ne dis rien de plus, je t'en supplie."  _Please, mother enough. You are embarrassing me in front of your sister. Don't say anything more, I beg you._

Narcissa raised her eyebrow, a move that was mirrored by her sister perfectly. She said, "Awe, il est de retour. Rappelez-vous cette leçon mon petit dragon et vous ne perdrez pas le contrôle de vos pulsions de base en face de lui." _Awe, he is back. remember this lesson well, my little dragon and you will not lose control of your basic urges in front of him._ Switching to English so Potter could also understand, "but we are being rude. Harry is our host and we insult his existence by speaking an unfamiliar language in his home. Come Harry, please will you give my son a tour of our new home? We will take over watching my grand-nephew as we catch up, and Andra will give me the tour later"  

     Draco was embarrassed. Red faced he glanced at the person in question who was busily pretending like he wasn't curious by the exchange in French. Draco cleared his throat and nodded his head once in acknowledgement of his mother's advice. Taking heed, he took a deep breath, scenting the air and felt is amour die with the cold taste of snow on his palate.  _This was going to be torture,_ he thought as he watched Potter snap into action. 

     "KREACHER! It looks like we will hold off on eating breakfast. Will the status charm hold and keep breakfast warm for us, while I give Malfoy the tour?" When the house-elf gave the affirmative. Potter nodded and taking Teddy from Draco, placed him back on the cushion, gestured Draco out the patio doors. "I guess we will start here, with the garden. Is that an albino peacock?" Harry asked incredulously. He had not noticed Draco release the animal from his arms, and Draco couldn't remember doing so, as he was to memorized by Harry's beauty in the morning light. 

     "Yes, mother's pet...Earl." He drawled out. "Don't get to close, he bites." Draco said darkly. Shaking out his right hand in memory of the several times Earl had attacked him while walking the streets of London to get there.

    "Hmm, okay..." Harry said quietly. He seriously hoped it wouldn't eat the flowers, he knew several of them to be poisonous to some pets, especially if it got into the the potion's garden on the west wall. "This is the garden, as you can see there is a terrace patio, but there is also a shaded patio and hammock between those trees, out there." Potter was pointing, but Draco was scarcely paying any attention to what he was pointing at, but concentrating on the cadence of his voice. Draco tooned back in to hear Potter say, "To leave the house, we will use the secret entrance behind the shed, for now. If you have any Quidditch gear, you can put in there. But don't touch my bike." Harry said referring of course to his godfather's flying motorbike. 

    _Why would I want to ride his bicycle,_ Draco thought, not realizing that bike could also mean the motorized kind as well.

     "The front entrance is still boobytrapped from the war, I am having a Curse Breaker come in later this week to get rid of it. This place is still under _fidelius_. I am the secret keeper. There is also a _tongue-tying_ jinx, so you can't even talk about the name, least of all the address. It's also anti-muggle, and unplottable." Harry continued stepping back into the study.

     "This is my study. And I do mean mine. You can pass through to get to the garden but if I catch you in here uninvited, I will curse your bollocks off." Draco gulped inaudible, knowing that that could very well be a possibility as Draco did not yet have a wand. Hari turned around and smiled to himself, knowing that that threat was perhaps an empty one, but perhaps the warning might give him some privacy. "If you want to pass through, you must knock three times before opening the door, and you have sixty seconds to get to the outside, before you get a nasty shock that might leaving you pissing your pants." This was not an empty threat, as he requested this defence added on by Bill Weasley. When Draco sped up his pace, Hari laughed at him. "It is not active when I am in here." Draco frowned at him.  

     "This is the library, I believe all the dark arts books have been removed, but in any case you all have access to this library. I want this place to be very much your home as it is mine. So lets try to get along." Draco had to stop suddenly so he wouldn't step on Hari's heels. He stopped and turned around to Draco offering his hand. "Malfoy."

     "Draco" He corrected Potter as he took the hand he had so desperately wanted to grasp the first time he offered back seven years ago on the train ride to school.

     "Hari." He replied in kind, shaking his hand. It was a start. Draco's heart was pounding out of his chest and he was barely breathing as he followed Hari through green flames into the parlor. He was fighting his Dragon who was shouting and clawing at the restraints of his mind, _My mate, bite, claim._ Clearing his throat, disturbed by Draco's intense stare, Hari continued the tour, "This is the parlor, I don't know much in terms of entertainment so I imagine it'll be our common room of sorts. I don't mind food anywhere, so if need be you could eat in here, the kitchen, dining room, outside, hell even your rooms. Although I would like to set a good example for Teddy Bear and eat as a family as much as possible, breakfast and dinner, preferably."

     "Why?" Draco cleared his throat, but didn't continue his question.

    "Why what Draco?" Hari inquired already on the stairs ready to descend. Draco held his breath once more when he heard his name being spoken by Hari for the second time, perhaps ever. When Draco didn't respond only continued to stare, Hari waved his hand in front of his face, until Draco flinched back. 

    "Why do you call my cousin that, that name after a muggle plush toy?" Draco clarified. 

    "Ted was Andromeda's husband's name. We call him Teddy in memory. I...er...call him Teddy Bear, because I...um...like the endearment, and I like to snuggle him, I suppose." Hari admitted with a faint blush on his cheeks.  _Too Fucking adorable,_ Draco thought as he watched Hari blush and struggle with actually getting the words out. 

     ' _Great Hari, why don't you give him more ammunition to use against you?'_ Harry thought bitterly to himself. But all Draco said was "fine."

      "Fine?" Hari asked incredulously.

      "Yes, Potter, fine!" Draco slipped up using Hari's last name with old habits hard to break. "It's not like you haven't heard my mother use a pet name on me." 

     "Really? And what might that be, Malfoy?" Hari said in challenge. How ever will they get along if they keep sniping at each other like this. 

     "Ma mère , calls me Dragon, or Mon Petit, or Mon Petit Dragon, or Mon Dragon Okay Potter. So laugh it up." Draco said giving up his secret, mortified about somehow not being able to avoid this confrontation, but not lying either. 

      "Draco...Dragon" Harry mussed. "Mon petit...mon petit Dragon," he struggled to understand the french, knowing the answer was right there, but unable to grasp it. 

      "My little, Dragon." Draco translated for Hari on a sigh. 

      "Hmm" was all Hari said as he eyed Draco up and down, none sexual in the least. "Not so little anymore, are we, Dray?" Hari said teasingly. Draco knew that the comment was not meant as an innuendo but Draco found the heat rising, and he fought the urge to adjust his tightening trousers. 

     "Dray...?" Draco got out on a strangled gasp. 

     "I won't call you that if you don't want me to." Hari said, embarrassed that he would even think to shorten Draco's name. 

     "Not in front of my mother, or aunt." Is all Draco said gruffly, secretly thrilled that Hari wanted to address him by his first name at all, let alone giving him a nickname. "Don't you dare call me anything demeaning like, Draky-pooh, or any such nonsense, or I'll push you down the stairs."

     Hari laughed, relieved that he didn't offend Draco with his slip up. "Ditto".

     "I don't know what that means!" Draco said and Hari laughed even harder as they made it to the ground floor. Draco laughed nervously as he looked around. This floor was still a bit dark and dusty, and it was evident that portraits use to hang on the walls of the long hallway. 

     "The portraits didn't like how the House of Black was owned by an outsider, so I took down their portraits. I won't take crap from anyone in my own home, dead or alive." Hari said on a warning. "The boobytrap is on the front door, it can be avoided by just keeping to this side of the hallway. The formal dining room is through that door, it fits up to twenty people or so. There is a small bathroom to wash up before meals, and that doorway across from the bathroom is the stairs leading down to the basement." Hari turned in that direction, but Draco's comment made him pause.  

     "Awe then I guess you don't want to put up any of the Black portraits I took from the Manor and vaults, do you?" Draco asked, running his hand through his hair in an uncommon gesture of nerves. 

    "Not unless you have a portrait of my godfather, Sirius Black." 

    "The third, actually...I do!" Draco exclaimed a bit surprised.  _So that's how he inherited the House of Black. Sirius Black III was the last Black heir and as his godfather he passed the house to Hari._ Satisfied at hearing one piece of information about Hari from the source. Looking around frantically, and nearly dancing in place Draco shouted, "Dot!" and a tiny house-elf appeared in the entrance hall of the ground floor. "Bring me Sirius Black's portrait, the third and hurry it up." Draco said quickly and a bit harshly.

    The house-elf left on a startled squeak of "Yes master Draco, right away sir." The house-elf appeared a moment later, nearly as quickly as it arrived, with a portrait taller than itself. The person in the portrait was scolding the poor house-elf for holding it upside down, and the person was holding onto the frame by the bottom, in danger of falling into the nothingness that was the ceiling. 

     The house-elf quickly handed the portrait of Sirius Black III over to Draco upside down. The Sirius in the portrait was saying, "silly house-elf" and cursing as he fought not to fall into an ungraceful heap back at the bottom of the portrait when Draco turned it back, right-side-up. He then turned it to Hari, who grasped it excitedly, with hands trembling as the Sirius in the portrait said happily, "Prongslet! Pup, how are you?"

     Hari said on a happy sniffle, "Alright, Padfoot, alright!" And forgetting Draco's existence entirely for the moment, nearly danced up the stairs to his room to have a quiet conversation with his godfather, whom he hasn't seen or heard since his death three years past.

      Draco was left on the stairs, abandoned by Hari feeling very much put out.

\------

      A short time later, Hari came hurtling down the stairs, to stop bent over at the waist hands on knees panting. "I am so sorry, Dray. I hadn't ...spoken with Sirius in ...three years. I guess...I got a little...over...excited." Hari finally got out between quick pants. Any anger Draco might have had was quickly forgotten when he saw Hari bent over like that showing off the bare skin of his nape, hair slightly stuck to it in sweat, skin glowing. Draco was enthralled momentarily by the sight, but managed to get out.

      "Geez Potter, no need to bow to me. I forgive you." That got Hari to snap his head up, eyes flashing emerald green to meet laughing gray ones, and realized that Draco was joking.

     "Oh!" Hari smiled sheepishly. "Well, let's continue the tour, shall we?" Hari said gesturing to the narrow stairs in the back of the hallway. Descending the stairs, before he continued the tour. "This is the kitchen, it use to hold important Order business after Voldemort returned." Draco flinched at hearing the Dark Lords name. "Fear of the name only increases fear itself". Hari said after seeing Draco's reaction. 

    "I had a lot to be afraid of, Potter. He lived in my home for three years. I've seen so many unthinkable things. He...he, made me do unthinkable things, alright. Things that I am rightly, ashamed of." Draco shivered and unconsciously was gripping the scars of the Dark Mark on his forearm. "So let's drop the subject for now...please?" The last part costing him greatly. It wasn't often he found himself begging for things. 

     "He's gone, Dray. Never coming back. I've made sure of that. I'd know if he still lived." And with that said, rubbing his old lightning bolt scar absently, Hari deciding to ignore the confrontation for now. It wasn't worth it anymore. Hari changed the subject. "So, the kitchen. The Laundry. Boiler room. Cold storage. The pantry. The wine cellar. Kreacher's den. And the second Floo entry point." Hari said, ending each sentence with a point of a finger.  Draco was not interested in this area he referred to as the servants domain. Other than checking out the content of the wine cellar, Hari had a feeling the Malfoy's would leave this area alone.  _Good, I can cook in peace._  Hari thought of the kitchen as his private safe haven, even Kreacher knew not to interrupt him when he was on a cooking spree.  

     Leading the way back to the ground floor, Hari carest the banister and it came alive with a hissing greeting from Asclepius. Draco jumped back with a very unmanly yelp. Hari laughed as he hissed a greeting back at the carved snake that had become his mentor in healing the last couple weeks. 

     Draco shivered at hearing the hissing noise come from Hari's mouth, a freakish reminder of the Dark Lord talking to the giant snake that was his familiar as he walked the halls of Malfoy Manor. Draco felt the walls close in on him, he couldn't breath, he felt trapped, no way out, the hissing was getting louder, louder, there was no air. _No...No!... NO!!!_  A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his living nightmare, instead of looking up into inhuman red eyes and pallor skin, he looked down into brilliant green eyes in a face of tanned skin. 

     "Are you alright, Dray?" Hari asked so softly, almost sweetly in Draco's ears. On a shuttered gasp, he nodded, not yet able to form words. 

     "I'm alright, I'm alright. Just forgot you spoke parseltongue and it gave me a bad moment, tis all." Draco managed to get out.

     "This is Asclepius. He is carved into the banister and may follow you up all flights of stairs. You won't be able to talk with him, but he can hear you. So try to stay on his good side, or you won't be able to leave the floor your stuck on for quite a while. He's not poisonous, but his bite hurts and you might have a splinter or two when he's down." Hari said from experience. 

    "Are there many snakes you talk to here, Hari?" Draco asked trying to prepare himself incase Hari has a pet snake that he talks too. 

    "Asclepius's two daughters, Hygieia and Panacea. Hygieia is the snake that is carved into the tapestry in the Parlor. And Panacea is the snake carved into my bedroom door. There is also Ashur, on the entrance. But don't worry, they won't attack you...well...er...Ashur will if you enter the house uninvited, but don't worry, he won't attack you because you are invited into the home." Hari rushed to reassure Draco, who was still really pale from his earlier scare. 

    Draco took a deep calming breath, "Okay, Potter, anything else you would like to scare me with before we finish the tour." Hari realized that Draco only used his last name when really mad or in jest, so he didn't take offense and replied in kind.

    "Not in the house, Malfoy, but if you are so afraid of snakes maybe you should have been in Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin." Hari joked.

    Scoffing, Draco nudged Hari and said, "At least I never lost to a Hufflepuff in Quidditch, aye Potter?"

     "Hey, I didn't lose to a Hufflepuff, I lost to a Dementor who was trying to suck out my soul. And if I remember correctly, you dressed up as a Dementor, during one of my matches trying to sabatosh the game." Hari shot back.

     Mildly ashamed of that gimmick in his aldulence, he huntched his shoulders. "Yeah...sorry!" Draco apologized for the first time to Hari and meant it.  

    Nudging Draco back, he said, "Hey, that's all in the past, we have our whole future ahead of us." 

     Once more nearly knocked out by his words, and desperately trying to stop himself from gobbling him up. He covered up how flustered he was by joking. "Wow, Potter! If I didn't know any better, that almost sounded to me like a marriage proposal." And in Draco's mind his alpha was begging it to be so. 

    Now it was Hari's turn to be flustered. "Well Malfoy, for better or worse, we are kind of like family now, and family is stuck with each other." Hari managed to get out.

     "That's true, Potter. You are Teddy's godfather and that makes you my, what?  God-uncle?" He ended on a question, perplexed at the bizarre family dynamics that would be. 

      "If you dare call me Uncle Hari, Malfoy; I'll punch you." 

      They both ended up laughing hysterically. And when Andromeda and Narcissa, holding Teddy, came out of the parlor, peered over the railing to the ground floor below to ask what was so funny. They only laughed harder at their inside joke. Hari continued the tour, including Narcissa this time, who still refused to give up her hold on the two month old baby. 

      She once more managed to embarrass her son in front of Hari by saying, "Well I will just have to settle for spoiling my grand-nephew until, my Dragon here settles down and gives me grandchildren." 

    On Draco's face was a look of pure horror as he wanted to just sink into the floor like a ghost of Hogwarts.  _Oh god, mother! Please._ Behind Hari's back, Draco's hands were clasped together in prayer as he silently begged his mother to stop embarrassing him, as Hari's shoulders were shaking with laughter. 

      As for Hari, he found his nerves at having the Malfoy's living with him in home receding some. They were still there, plenty, but with a small truce between old rivals, perhaps they could even be friends. Hari didn't want to even imagine what his actual friend Ronald Weasley would say to that prospect.  

   He wanted everything to be perfect for Teddy's surviving family. He, Kreacher, and even Andromeda put a lot of work into fixing up the place. Andromeda knew quite a few charms and spells to refurbish the rooms, but didn't have the magical stamina that it took. Anything she couldn't do herself, or teach Hari how to do, they left to Kreacher. The townhouse had slowly turned into a home, room by room.

     Hari continued the tour from where he left out, with just Draco, Narcissa and little Teddy tagging along for the ride. He explained to Narcissa about the spectre and not being able to use the front door until the Curse Breaker could come by later that week to get rid of it, and explained the houses defences, including Ashur, and introducing them to the rest of the snakes in residence. When Hari spoke parseltongue, Draco was prepared for it this time. He noted the differences in cadence Hari had from the Dark Lord. Instead of cold and spine chilling, Hari's hissing was warm and caused a different type of tingle to go up his spine.  

     The hallway looked bare without its gallery of portraits. Narcissa carefully took stock of the empty walls, remembering once before her pre-Hogwarts day running down this hallway and getting scolded by the many portraits of family members. Going up to the first floor landing, Hari showed the Malfoy's the parlor, how to get into the Library, the private study that Hari claimed as his own, and the garden in which they first entered. On the same floor as the parlor was a tiny guest bedroom and small bath, that would remain unoccupied for now. It was the same bedroom that Ginny and Hermione use to share on their visits, but Hari wasn't going to say that. 

      On the second floor landing was the master bedroom that Andromeda claimed as her's and Teddy's. There of course, was a generously sized en suite bathroom. This room use to be Walburga's room and even the Hippogriff Buckbeak's at one time. Andromeda knew about the old occupants but never complained to Hari about it. Once Teddy was older he would have the smaller second bedroom on this floor as his nursery and bedroom. It was once the room Ron and he once shared. 

     On the third floor landing would be Narcissa's bedroom as it was the second largest bedroom with adjoined bathroom, that could also be accessed from the hallway. This room use to be Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's room, but Hari was wise to never mention this to Narcissa afraid of her rejecting the room over a petty family feud. There was also two tiny bedrooms down this hall that use to be Fred and George's shared room, and Remus's. These rooms would too, be unoccupied.  

    On the fourth floor landing was Draco's room, whose room use to belong to Sirius. Hari of course vanished all the nude muggle posters of biker chicks, and charmed the room a different color. He didn't think that Draco would appreciate the Gryffindor colors of gold and scarlet. Although, he did think it would be funny to see Draco's reaction if he had left it exactly how Sirius did. In fact, Hari contemplated taking that room as his own, but it just made him depressed, besides he didn't mind taking the slightly smaller room that use to be Regulus's room. They would of course have to manage sharing the same bathroom, together.

     Draco noticed that they were on the last flight of steps, and realized Hari hadn't mentioned which rooms either of them were sleeping in. _Did they have rooms on the same floor, or did Hari sleep in some other room hidden away, like the library, study, and garden?_ The first door they came across was the bathroom and next to the bathroom was a door with a sign, marked simply Draco. _His room, finally._ All he wanted to do was lock himself away from the rest of the world so he could spend the remainder of his pre-rut in peace. Or as his alpha kept suggesting not so gently in the back of his mind, drag Hari into his room and ravish him. 

     Gritting his teeth, giving himself a little pep talk about the merits of not scaring off his host, and losing this safe haven, he pushed back his alpha's dominant nature, barely. Looking down the hall he finally noticed another room. The sign read, Hari J. Potter. In Draco's mind it was like a Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes firework show went off in his brain, and a choir was singing holy music, and Draco was lightheaded with delight. No. That was Draco nearly passing out from holding his breath too long, and his mother catching him before he face planted and further embarrassed himself. Luckily all this happened within a few seconds and Hari wasn't actually paying attention but talking about their living arrangements.

      Draco was both thrilled and terrified of sharing a room right next to Hari. Thoughts of sleeping on the same floor, quickly turned into visions of sleeping in the same room, on the same bed, and more explicit activities came to mind than just sleeping. That line of thought Draco was fighting to stay away from at the moment, because it was completely inappropriate to be having fantasies of he and Hari in twenty different sex positions and counting with his mother _right there, and with his baby cousin in her arms._  What was worse, was his mother knew his every desire, had seen it develop from infatuation, to crush, to lust, and now as an alpha fighting his every desire during pre-rut. _When will this embarrassment ever end?_ Draco really didn't want to be too close in case he couldn't control his alpha, but his alpha was absolutely delighted to be as close as possible to Hari without triggering Ice-blood. Frustrated beyond belief and just wanting to lock himself away in his room, he demanded a little harsher than intended. "Why do I have to sleep on the same floor as you, Potter?"

      Mildly insulted, Hari came up with a flippy come back, "would you rather sleep on the same floor as you mommy?" Just to spite him. Draco only huffed and grumbled. "in a much smaller and cramped living space?' That quieted Draco up really quick. Satisfied with Draco's response. Hari explained, "This was the easier solution I could come up with, you wouldn't want your mother or aunt to have to walk up all these flights of stairs would you?"

     And because, thinking rational for once, he wouldn't want that, and he really did want to spend more time with Hari outside his rut-infested mind, that is.

      Finally done with that disaster of a confrontation over rooms, the last place to explore was the attic with empty Owlery, storage space, and new house-elf quarters for Kokoa and Dot. Hari offered Kreacher that space or even the smaller bedroom on the first floor, but Kreacher declined preferring his lonely boiler room.

      After Hari gave the Malfoy's a tour of their new home, they sat down to eat breakfast as a family. For some reason he was more nervous, sitting down trying to come up with small talk than he was giving the tour. And so he sat tense at one end of dining room table with Teddy gurgling happily in his arms. Teddy was done being fed, burped and changed, and he didn't apparently want to go down for a nap, so Hari was currently using him as a shield so he didn't have to interact that much with Draco who was beginning to unnerve Hari some with his intense staring.  

      Hari had helped prepare breakfast, but Kreacher got offended when Hari said he wanted to help serve too, so Hari left it to the house-elves to serve the meal. It was nothing special just eggs, potatoes, bacon, sausage, and biscuits, but it was something he had been doing for the Dursley's for years, serve them breakfast. The only difference here was, no one knew he did the cooking, and he actually got to sit down and enjoy the meal with the family. 

      The only problem was Draco. He kept staring and it was getting quite annoying. Andromeda was chatting away with Narcissa like twenty-seven years and the war hadn't happened. Draco on the other hand was quietly staring at Hari. "What?" Hari hissed out of the side of his mouth as he took a sip of his morning tea one handed. Draco startled as if Hari had shouted at him.

     "What what, Potter?" Draco said quietly between clenched teeth.

     "You are staring, Malfoy. Haven't you any manners at all, it's rude to stare. So, say something or look in the other direction." Hari said. He was no longer hungry, his appetite long gone from nerves. 

      Draco didn't realize he was that obvious in his staring. Fighting a blush, he took a deep breath, familiarizing himself with the scent of the house. He smelled his mother's sharp and spicy cinnamon scent. His Aunt Andromeda's breezy and lavender scent. He even smelled the scent of formula milk and clean linen from his tiny cousin, Teddy, but the scent he wanted was frustratingly absent and yet everywhere at the same time. He clenched his teeth trying to prevent a snarl. It was like every scent clunge to Hari; scents from the garden, the smell of freshly turned soil, and the smell of sunlight on his skin radiated throughout the house, with the underlying smell of fresh clean snow.

      He knew what that smell meant,  _snow,_ his mother told him that is the main smell all underage witches and wizards had. Fresh and clean like new snow, but cold to the touch, so don't. It appeared to have the opposite effect on Draco, because Harry didn't smell like anything, like he didn't belong to anyone, it made Draco want to scent him, to warn others away. 

     Narcissa and Andromeda both paused in their happy chatter, both scenting at the same time a rise in alpha pheromones, heavy with the scent of lust. Draco, being newly presented and in pre-rut would have mild spikes in his hormones for the next few days, usually lasting about a week the first time and narrowing down to two or three days once he matures, unless he is around an omega, then all bets were off. An alpha in the same vicinity as an omega was like fire and gasoline with a healthy gust of wind fanning the fire, feeding each others lust. An omega in heat could send an alpha into early rut, and an alpha in rut could send an omega into early heat. Instinctively Draco was doing the same, unconsciously sending out pheromones towards his heart's desire. Hari unfortunately, was unpresented and it was unclear if he would be an alpha, beta, or omega, and couldn't even sense the danger he was in.  

    " _Dragon,_ " Narcissa said sharply, "You look a bit peaky, _go to your room."_   An alpha command. Something that if Draco was mature enough he could have fought, but wisely he backed down. Perhaps soon his own alpha would be stronger, but not today. He listened to his mother and with chair scraping on the hardwood floor, slamming the dining room door on his way out, and stomped up four flights of stairs. 

      In his room, embarrassed at being sent away from the table like a misbehaving child, and grateful to finally being behind a door with a lock on it. This was just his first rut, it wasn't even considered a full rut, but a pre-rut, and his next one would last longer and be more intense for him. He was just lucky that he got to spend any time with Hari during this time than none at all. If it was a real rut, he would have been locked away from Hari for days. Thinking back on the morning they spent together, Draco scrambled for his journal that he kept for as long as he could remember. His mother, showed him how to lock it with his blood, so no one could read his private thoughts. A good thing because his thoughts, and this journal was full of Hari James Potter. On that note, he opened the journal and wrote with quill and ink, Hari's proper spelling for his name.

     His mother was the one who gave him this journal, over ten years ago. He was seven and he wanted to purchase a book, about every child's hero, ~~Harry~~  Hari Potter. His father absolutely forbade it. After his first ever canning he received by his father, his mother had snuck into his bedchamber after dark, woke him up and presented him with three gifts; the first being the journal that only he could open, the second being a multi-compartment trunk, and thirdly his first child's story about Hari Potter. From then on he secretly collected any book, or article clipping and hid them away in the trunk and journal. For three years he didn't know what the boy hero looked like, only rumors of the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Then suddenly the world was abuzz with chatter about the boy, being seen in the company of a giant at Diagon Alley. And blurry pictures were published of this scrawny starved looking twig of a boy in rags, and glasses too big for his face and broken. His collection of images grew bigger and bigger until his journal was bursting at the seams. 

    Flipping through pages and pages of article clippings and pictures of Hari as a boy, he watched him age through the eyes of the film. First Year, Second Year, Third Year, Fourth Year. He paused, his breath was shallow and ragid. He thumbed back a couple of pages, this was the image that started his lustful thoughts. It wasn't even that great a picture, just one of the numerous shots he paid Colin Creevey to take. Later on he would pay Rita Skeeter, and oh boy was that a mistake for the lies she told, but her quality of pictures were much better. The picture he looked at now was a blurry picture of Hari after completing the second task, he was topless, skranny, and shivering from the cold, reaching for a towel that this film would never capture him grasping. What was it about this picture that turned him on, at fourteen, confused at his reaction for a boy he believed he hated. Looking back, was this obsessive journal he looked through now, the thoughts about a boy he loathed, or secretly loved? 

     Flipping a few more pictures and articles over, he came across the formal picture of Hari at the Yule Ball, standing in a corner, brooding. Always brooding. Draco remembered that night, he was confused, scared of his thoughts and feelings, his lustful desires he saw as wrong. He lost his virginity that night. To Pansy Parkinson. His friend. It was wrong, they both knew it. She with girlish dreams, thought she loved him, and he a confused boy fighting his own lustful desires for another boy. And oh boy did he regret that that night for everyone thought he was in a relationship with his friend, and they played along for two years.

      He had to laugh at himself now. He was laid out on the bed, clothes thrown about the room like a twisted twister from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes product had run amuck. His cheeks were flushed red, pupils blown wide, and the smell of sex, and musk, and alpha pheromones heavy in the air. Draco threw back his head, iridescent white scales glittered on his throat, as fire built up, glowing like hot coals between white cracks in his scales at his throat. His release was like that of the fire that exploded out of him with a roar of screaming frustration, and unfulfilled desires. When he came down from his intense orgasim, the  pearlescent beads of his cum glistened in the flickering light of the flames that surrounded him.

     It was only the first day of living with Hari Potter. What would the future bring for them? Draco thought as the heat built in intensity in his abdomen, in his throat, in his heart. He was losing a battle of wills between his alpha and its rut, and his consciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, whatcha think?  
> Is Draco's journal too creepy? I kinda like it.  
> Will Hari find out about it, and when?  
> Readers, if you have any cute, none smut scenes you would like played out for the story's timeline of the month before Hari's birthday and his first heat, or after too, shoot me a comment. I want your input.  
> Next chapter, Hari accompanies Draco to get new wands.


	7. Sweat and Steam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promised one reader a shower scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wonderful World of Harry Potter, the characters and images all belongs to the amazing mind of J.K. Rowling and no copyright infringement was intended in the creation of this fan fiction.  
> 

      _Why was Hari making this so difficult?_ Draco tried, He really did. But Hari was being too seductive and he was just sitting there eating. Hari had made one request and that was that they try to eat as a family. Breakfast the morning before was a failure. The second time was just as bad. Narcissa and Andromeda, Draco and Hari sat outside on the terrace patio having a simple lunch. Draco wasn't eating, he was simply drinking in the vision before him, tousled hair, quick toothed grin, and shining green eyes. 

     Hari's lips were moist, pink, and glistening against the green shell of the salted edamame as he used his lips to gently pop the immature soybeans into his mouth. He was chewing absently, lost in thought, looking out into the garden. Draco watched hypnotized as yet another pod made its way between his lips and gently pulled back out. He was scarcely breathing let alone concentrating on anything else, anyone else, as Hari quickly cleaned the salt from his index finger, then thumb, glancing up through thick lashes towards Draco.

      That's as far as he made it before Draco shot up in a flash and swept through the double glass patio doors. He was currently sitting in the dark of his bedroom, knees curled up to his chest and head resting on folded arms, after yet another masterbation session, once in his room and another in the shower. His stomach rumbled in hunger, and Draco groaned. There was no way he was going out there to face Hari again. He wanted his rut to be over, and soon.

       Back in the garden, Hari was sitting motionless.  _What the hell was that?_ He didn't think he said that out loud, but Narcissa leaned over, nevertheless, and placed her palm on Hari's knee. Narcissa spoke softly.

       "Draco is just going through a hard time. He has a lot to adjust to. He'll be fine in another day or two, just be patient, Hari, love." Looking down shyly blushing faintly at the endearment. It made him feel warm and bubbly. Hari nodded his head once. It was a lot to handle, he imagined. Packing up everything he owned, and leaving everything he knew behind to come and live with your school rival was not an easy feat.  _Does Draco really hate me that much that he can't stand being in the same room with_ me? Harithought to himself. Yesterday's excuse was he was feeling sick,  _Yeah sick of me._  

      Narcissa glanced over at Andromeda, Hari didn't give off the same pheromones as they, being unpresented and all, but they could still smell some emotions. What they smelled was a faint scent of distress and aggravation. It didn't appear to the two sisters that Hari enjoyed these encounters anymore than Draco did. 

      "Nos amours, ont besoin d'apprendre a obtenir sur, non?" _Our loves, need to learn to get on, no?_

"Le problème n'est pas qu'ils ont besoin d'apprendre, 'a obtenir sur,' mais mon dragon veut dans son amour."  _The problem is not they need the learn 'to get on,' but my dragon wants to get in his love._ Andromeda burst out in wild laughter at her sisters words. 

      "Pauvre amour. Pensez-vous que notre Raven apprendra jamais qu'il a un admirateur secret dans notre dragon? _Poor love. D_ _o you think that our Raven will ever learn that he has a secret admirer in our dragon?_

    "Notre Raven est inconscient de ses admirateurs qui ne sont pas si secrets. Je pense qu'il faudrait beaucoup plus qu'un dragon mâle lors de sa première ornière pour réaliser son propre allure."  _Our Raven is oblivious to his admirers that are not so secret. I think it would take much more than a male dragon during his first rut to realize his own allure._

       Hari smiled not really understanding what they were laughing about, but happy that the two sisters were getting on well enough to be laughing together out in the open air in the back garden of Grimmauld Place. Hari knew that Narcissa called her son Dragon so he knew that they were laughing at Draco's expense, but he didn't realizing that the corbeau,  _raven_ , they spoke of was their nickname for him.

\------

      Draco was starving, exhausted, and his hand hurt. Rut season could be fun if you had a partner, or so he's been told; however, by himself with the object of his desire just right next door and frustratingly unavailable, his rut was just torture. 

       After two failed meals, Draco settled for just having the house-elves deliver meals to his room, he'd starve otherwise. But now that his rut was over, Draco wanted to be anywhere but his room. Opening both windows facing the back garden, he aired out his room from the smell of stale sweat and sex pheromones. 

       Draco rested his sweaty brow against the cool windowsill and just breathes in the scent of cool predawn air. The garden looked eerie beautiful in the dark, shadows cast from all directions, the only source of light coming from the faint light of the stars. He looked up into the dark sky smiling ryling. The constellation he was named after was just visible in the northwest. His mother told him that when he was born on the fifth of June at one o'clock in the morning, his father as per his mother's insistence, had looked up into the night sky and picked out the constellation dead center of the sky.  _Draco._

       Looking out once more into the garden, he sighed. This place was nice, from what his mother had told him, the ancestral home of Black had fallen in disarray after his uncle Orion had passed. Hari had made this place a home. He frowned, lost in thought. For the first time, thinking Hari's name didn't send him into instant arousal. That was a good sign. His rut was over, and if it didn't completely ruin any chance at a fledgling friendship, perhaps they could start over.

      It was early, he strained his ears listening. He didn't hear any movement from the room next to his. Good, Hari was still asleep and he could take a much needed bath. Leaving the windows open, he gathering his bathing supplies; shampoo and conditioner, bath oils, and soaps. He stepped out of his room trying to be quiet as possible, as he didn't want to alert his floormate he was up. It wouldn't be good to confront his long time crush, crusty and smelling like stale cum and sweat. 

     The bathroom was large. Not as large as the prefect bathroom, but large enough that it had a bathing area separate from the toilet and double sink vanity, with a dressing area on the side. The giant lion clawed bathtub was big enough for two, brass pipes gleaming against red royal flush porcelain. There was also a very nice shower, separated by fogged glass to the right of the tub. Setting his bathing items on the bench in the sectioned off dressing area with towel closet to the left of the tub, he leisurely stripped out of his cum crusted clothes while he waited for the tub to fill up with frothed and scented water. Steam slowly filled the room. 

      Slipping into the water, Draco slowly let the hot water soothe aching muscles. He let his head rest on the bath pillow over the lip of the tub. He let out a long content sigh. He wanted to let the warm water wash away his tension from the last couple days.

        Slipping his head beneath the surface of the frothed water, he held his breath just letting his mind empty of thoughts, before surfacing again. Taking a deep breath, he tensed. While he was beneath the surface of the water, Hari had entered the bathroom unannounced. Draco's back was facing the direction of the toilet so he couldn't see Hari, but he heard the clear sound of a stream of liquid hit the inside of a porcelain bowl, and smelt the faint pungent smell of ammonia. Hari Potter was taking a piss right behind him. The sound of trickling water diminished, he heard the sound of nails scratching against bare skin, and a loud yawn, before the sound from the toilet flushing and then the rushing water from the faucet in the direction of the sink. 

       Hari was not yet aware of his audience as he relieved his bladder first thing in the morning. He didn't bother with his glasses first thing, and was still a bit drowsy and disoriented perhaps because of it and a bit sleepy yet. It wasn't until he was washing his hands that he opened his eyes after letting out an enormous yawn, that he saw his blurry reflection through fogged up mirror and noticed the warmth from steamy air.  His eyes went wide. Reflected in the foggy mirror behind him, over a waist high divide that separated the bathing area from the toilet and sink, was the blurry outline of tense muscular shoulders and platinum blond hair of Draco Malfoy. Startled he cursed, apologizing profoundly and hastily turned off the water, using the hand towel next to him to dry wet and still slightly soapy hands. 

      "Merlin Balls, Potter!" Draco exclaimed loudly, voice echoing off the tiled walls, "Don't you have any decency. We share a bathroom, knock next time, won't cha?" Draco was flushed red, grateful that his back faced Hari. 

      "Ss...sor...sorry Dray!" Hari stammered out as he rushed out of the bathroom, embarrassed and grateful that he hadn't had to go number two or did something undignified, like fart. 

       Draco sunk lower in the tub, his nose barely grazing the surface of the water, and blowing bubbles. He was mortified. He scrubbed his skin of sweat, dirt, crusted cum, and dead skin, then emptied the tub of dirty water. Refilling the 56 gallon tub, with a different type of bubbles and oils, he shampooed and conditioned his hair. He was just about to reach for the corded drain for the second time with his foot, before he stood up and used the extended nozal to rinse off completely, when the door of the bathroom opened for the second time a mere seconds after a quick nuckled knock. Hari strode back in unapologetic this time. Draco sunk once more back down to his nose in the water. 

      Hari didn't even glance at Draco as he hurried into the bathroom, with just a towel slung over narrow hips. Draco stared fixedly ahead trying not to look at the tempting morsale at his mercy. He couldn't help but see from his peripheral vision, Hari's toned caffs, narrow hip bones covered by a white towel, and spiny vertebrae as he bent down to place his own clean clothes besides Draco's on the bench to the left of the tub, before stepping around the tub to turn on the spray in the shower behind fogged glass. Dropping the towel at his feet as he stepped beneath the spray. 

      "You were taking too long, and I have Bill Weasley, you know the Curse-Breaker that works at Gringotts coming over later in the morning to get rid of the spectre on the ground floor entrance hall, that Mad-Eye put up as a defense during the war. Sorry, I couldn't wait any longer. I still have to cook breakfast, and we are going into Diagon Alley later." Hari gave his one breath explanation in a rush. 

      "Uh-huh" Was all Draco could get out on a strangled gasp. He was desperately glad that his rut was over, otherwise he would have surely tried to molest the unsuspecting boy taking a vigorous shower next to him, if the amount of splashes against the glass door was anything to go by. Gathering as much Slytherin nearly nonexistent courage, Draco pulled the plug on the water, standing up he turned on the spray overhead desperate to rinse off. He heard Hari's teeth chatter briefly, and Hari's quick exhaled "Burr" as the water reverted to cold when Draco turned on his taps. 

       Wrapping a towel around his own hips and another hanging off his neck, Draco stepped to the sink vanity to apply skin lotion to his face, and scented drying powder to his skin, and sleekeazy hair potion in his hair. Before he was done, Hari was already stepping out of the shower, skin a rosy pink over tanned skin. He had the same wrinkled towel from the floor as before he got in. He stepped up to the other sink that shared the same vanity, still dripping wet. Draco stood momentarily transfixed as water droplets ran over tanned skin speckled with white scars over his torso.  _When did he get all those scars, the war?_ Draco thought amazed; his own scars, some of which Hari gave him, were nothing compared to the many that painted a gruesome story all over his body. 

      Hari was brushing his teeth just a vigorously as he washed his body, spraying toothpaste over the faucet and mirror. Draco would have been irked, if he wasn't still memorized by the sight of Hari nearly naked next to him. Gulping once, he trailed his eyes over one scar that stood in stark contrast against tanned skin as it went from right hip past his taut buttocks, and over the right outside thigh. Draco noted on a quickly muffled giggle that Hari's ass and thighs, what he could see of them from the barely concealing towel, were lily white in comparison to the rest of his body. 

     Hari heard the sound Draco made, and glanced up at him. He noticed that Draco was staring at him, still not finished applying some type of lotion to his arms. Annoyed that Draco was still not ready, and now had the nerve to laugh at him. He spat out his toothpaste from his mouth, rinsing it and the sink, giving the faucet and the mirror a quick scrub down. "Hurry up princess, I am making breakfast that will be done in twenty minutes, we have a guest arriving within the hour, and your mother said you have been without a wand since the battle of Hogwarts, so we are going to Ollivanders to get new wands today. Meet me in the kitchen. Unless you'd rather sulk in your room for another day, that is." Hari said a bit testidly as he swept away from the vanity, quickly getting clothes on with still damp skin, and left the bathroom, in less than fifteen minutes than he first came in. 

      A little more than twenty minutes later, Draco wandered into the kitchen timidly, not knowing what to expect. He was dressed, hair shiny and slicked back out of his face in a neat ponytail, and skin smooth and glowed by the light of the gas lamps by the narrow staircase leading into the basement. Hari was behind the stove, busily preparing food. Draco's jaw dropped. He had never even seen a house-elf cook let alone a wizard. Hari glanced over his shoulder unimpressed at Draco. Before turning around with two plates in hand. Placing one plate in front of Draco, filled to the brim with eggs, sausage, and toast, and another in front of himself, Hari sat down in a chair directly across from Draco.

     He was quickly but neatly shoveling small bites into his mouth, teeth barely flashing against the silver of the fork, before he glanced up at Draco. Covering his mouth with fork still in hand, he said, "Hurry up Dray, we have a busy day ahead of us." With a small nod of acknowledgment Draco dug into his own breakfast, with more gusto than he was brought up to consider etiquette. Not knowing if the meal was more enjoyable, because he hadn't had a proper meal in days, or if it was because it was made by Hari who ate with him.

     He smiled, it was barely eight o'clock in the morning he noted, by the grandfather clock in the corner, and his day was already looking bright.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone notice that I made the bathroom Gryffindor colored?


	8. The Curse-Breaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill Weasley shows up at Grimmauld Place to get rid of Mad-Eye’s booby trap, only to discover Draco Malfoy sitting down to breakfast with Hari. There is a lot of bad blood between the two. Who will win in the dominance game between alphas?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wonderful World of Harry Potter, the characters and images all belongs to the amazing mind of J.K. Rowling and no copyright infringement was intended in the creation of this fan fiction.
> 
> Warnings: Graphic Description of Child Abuse and Neglect. Skip to the second break if you do not want to read. I will give you a short summary in the end note.

      Hari’s food quickly disappeared from his plate as he ate his breakfast as fast as possible. He ate all his meals with quick, small bites making it easier to digest and less likely to choke.  Living with the Dursley’s taught Hari this valuable lesson: Eat fast, because meals are far between and can be taken away at any moment. Old habits were hard to break. If Hari ate too slow his cousin Dudley would finish his much larger meal, then swipe Hari’s food right off his plate, and there was nothing he could do about it. The Dursley’s would often send him away from the table before he finished his meager meal. Withholding food had always been one of the Dursley’s worse punishments.

       Even when he prepared the meal himself, the Dursley’s would only allow for him to eat the leftovers, burnt, or foods Dudley refused to eat. When Hari was ten he tried to get away with eating a little extra by purposely burning a few meals. He had become partial to the taste of burnt food. That came to an end when his pigsty of a cousin, Dudley noticed that Hari had been a little too happy with his meals and like the pig he was squealed to his mother. Hari was sent to his cupboard for the whole weekend without any meals, only let out a few times a day to use the restroom.

    Hari vaguely recalled what happened next, the memory hazy and fleeting.

\------

_Hari was wary of such a light punishment he had received, and was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Friday, after school Hari came home late, after running a whole three blocks in the opposite direction from Dudley and his friends. They were too lazy to chase him any further than a block, and so Hari took the long way home. Only to find out that Dudley was already home standing smugly between his two parents and eagerly awaiting Hari’s further punishment. His Uncle Vernon stood wide as a whale, a twisting smile contorting his face. His Aunt Petunia stood tall, neck stretched higher than her husband, a disapproving frown on her face._

_“So you like burnt food, do yah, boy?” Hari’s Uncle chuckled menacingly. Hari stood stiff and frozen in fright against the closed front door, as his uncle advanced towards him. All Hari saw was the shadow looming towards him, his vision going dark around the edges. Vernon grabbed Hari by the back of the neck and propelled the frightened boy towards the kitchen table, pushing him down at the head of the table. Hari was nearly hyperventilating, his tiny and frail frame shaking violently in fright. “Tunnie, bring the plate for the boy, he looks as if he will fade away at any moment if some food doesn’t get in his belly.”_

_Petunia walked over from the stove, sniffed disdainfully, and placed an enormous steak in front of him. It was fat, and looked cooked all the way around, but burnt at the edges. Hari looked up from the plate, His uncle was seated in front of him where his aunt Petunia usually sat, her on his left, and his cousin on his right. They all looked on him. Hari sat in confusion not understanding his relatives’ new cruel trick. Was he supposed to eat it, or sit there and not eat, what?_

_“Well you little freak, what are you waiting for? EAT!” She shouted towards the end. Flinching at the name, and jumping at the shout, Hari fumbled with the silverware, taking the knife and fork in hand and cutting into the hearty meat; he gagged._

_The meat was cooked on the outside, but on the inside was raw; what’s more, the meat had streaks of greenish brown through it. It was rancid, smelled pungent, and Hari was expected to eat it. Hari wanted to argue. He wanted to run away. He wanted to faint and never wake up again. Hari wanted to do anything but sit there and endure the Dursley’s cruel treatment. When he looked up at his family members seated around him, he gulped and opened his mouth, but his uncle reached under the table and pulled out a paddle with holes throughout. Looking down at the spoiled meat in front of him, he gulped again, his mouth dry of any saliva, and his gag reflex already fluttering. Carefully cutting into his putrid meal, and took his first bite._

_Hari didn’t remember eating any more of the spoiled meat passed the first bite, but he remembered being thrown into the cupboard in darkness, shaking with chills and feverish. His abdomen cramped horribly, feeling like someone took one of his uncle’s drills and used it to twist up his guts from the inside. He lay curled up like a shrimp in his cupboard, he had continued to throw up long after his stomach emptied of any food, and diarrhea continued to expel from his other end. He couldn’t move, eyes staring sightless though half-lids, and through a pounding headache he thought he heard Dudley shout to his mother, “Mum, mum! I think he’s dead! Look at ‘em.”_

_From there Hari fought consciousness, coming in and out. He vaguely recalled the feeling of weightlessness; his uncle picking him up out of the cupboard. The roof of his uncle’s car, his aunts horse like face peering at him over the head rest, and heard hushed argument from his aunt and uncle in the front seat._

_“I think we went too far, just look at the freak.” Aunt Petunia._

_“No, no. He’ll be fine. The boy’s survived numerous beating and worse. What’s important now is that we get our stories straight. We need to take him to another hospital in another town. We’ll send a letter to that crooked-nose old man, at that school for freaks like him; we’ll tell him another story. He’ll pay the expenses, again.” Uncle Vernon._

_Hari didn’t remember having to go to a hospital for such a serious illness before. He always was forced to endure sickness and injuries on his own, with only over the counter medicine. He had a fast metabolism and healed quickly from many injuries, he remembered having to splint a few broken bones himself. He’s always healed before. It was different this time. He was dying. He was okay with it._

_He didn’t know at the time the “crooked-nose old man” was Albus Dumbledore, who paid the Dursley’s to look after him instead of sending him to an orphanage, nor did he know the school they talked about was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. To get in contact with the wizarding world, family members of witches and wizards had to write a letter with postage, and place it in the mailbox. It makes it way to the post office, where the employees will gather, laugh at the address, and joke around about the crackpot who wrote a letter addressed to a School for Witchcraft, until a supervisor overhears the conversation. He is a squib working at the post office, which sends these types of letters by owl to their respective recipient._

_Once at the hospital all Hari saw was the nauseating rush of light rectangular fluorescent lights against dropped ceiling panels flashing by overhead, as he was placed on a gurney and hasted away. He remembered tidbits of his guardian’s conversation with a doctor or nurse hidden behind a curtain._

_“He really is a disturbed little boy, really violent, and sneaky. Always stealing clothes from our honest and good son Dudley, and stealing food from the pantry and fridge. We’ve taken to locking the cupboards in the house, the fridge, the bedroom door.” Yeah, Hari remembered a similar conversation given to a hassled Child Services worker, who stopped by unexpectedly. They explained away the bruises, the locks on the doors, and the horrendous mess left Dudley’s second bedroom, all on Hari. From the doubtful sounds the stranger on the other side of the curtain made, she didn’t seem to believe them then, either. Hari frowned, wondering what ever happened to her._

_“Despite being taken in after his own parents, my dearest Tunnie’s sister, violently died in a car crash, he is very ungrateful.” His uncle was now explaining to the stranger behind the curtain. “He fights at school; he disappears after school only to come home late covered in bruises. He has destroyed every toy we ever given him in his room. He fights us on a daily basis, look at this bruise.” He must be showing off the huge bruise left on Vernon’s large belly after Dudley head-butted him playing rugby._

_“Then why, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, is your nephew so sick, now? His x-rays show numerous broken bones, and his blood work shows signs of years of malnutrition and he is not up to date on his vaccinations, either.”_

_“He locks himself away in his room for days on end, won’t come out to eat on his own” his Aunt Petunia was saying. “We use a cat door in his room to slip him food. He must have eaten the food once it spoilt. We have bars on his windows, because he kept running away from home.” That’s as far as she got before there was a brilliant flash from behind the curtain that left orange spots floating in his eyes. He was trying to blink them away, when he heard the sound of the curtain being pulled open, and looked up to see a very tall old man, with long white hair on his head and face, and smiling blue eyes twinkled behind half-moon rimmed glasses. The young Hari didn’t trust that twinkling eyed man one bit._

_“Ah Hari Potter” The man mumbled out in a hoarse voice that only the very old had. “You have had quite an adventure, one I imagine of many more in your life.” The old man was saying to him, tall frame hunched over the hospital bed. “You’ll survive this one; I’ll make sure of it.” That was all he said as he pointed a white knotted stick at his face and Hari’s world turned to oblivion._

_The next Saturday was Dudley’s eleventh birthday on the 24th of June. He was busy counting his 36 presents while his Uncle was reading the morning paper, and his aunt was busy at the stove before she saw him come in. When he entered the kitchen, she shoved the spatula into his hands and said nastily, “Try not to burn the bacon this time?”_

_“Yes, Aunt Petunia.” Hari replied meekly. Not wanting a repeat of the spoilt meat incident and trip to the hospital like last time. He didn’t remember all of it and he supposed it was his brain repressing the memory for a horrendous experience.  He heard his Aunt Petunia hustling over to the kitchen table to fawn over her son. When she called him ‘Dudders,’ Hari gagged sticking out his tongue in disgust while his back was to the rest of the room._

\------

          Hari frowned at the memory. To this day, he preferred his meat well-done and he couldn’t even look at rare or medium rare meat, the sight of even a twinge of pink blood turning his stomach. His favorite foods were barbecue for the burnt and smoky taste.

        But he didn’t remember the incident as it played out in his mind now. Before that very moment all he could remember was the point up to that first bite, being thrown in his cupboard, and waking up in the hospital three days later on Monday night. Why had Dumbledore used _Obliviate_ on him to erase this particular memory? How many more memories did he erase or alter on him, and why? Dumbledore knew about the neglect, the beatings, and the starvation, and yet he still left him with his abusive muggle relatives, for what, _the greater good?!_ Was Professor Snape right in his outrage when he said, “raising the boy like a pig for slaughter, only to die at the right moment”? Before he could reflect on this new development the fire in the hearth blazed loud and green and seemed to spit out Bill Weasley.  

         Bill Weasley froze upon seeing Draco Malfoy seated with Hari Potter eating breakfast. Forcing a stiff smile he greeted the room, “Morning. Ah, Hari what is _he_ doing here?” He practically hissed. Draco’s dragon had superior hearing and heard every word. His alpha was always on guard around Hari, so when unfamiliar alpha stepped through the Floo, he stood up from his spot at the table.

      “ _He_ lives here and _he_ can hear you.” Draco responded with a sneer. Bill appeared to swell up in size back stiff he reached for his wand, but Hari caught his wrist with Seeker reflexes. Bill paused from unleashing his attack, stunned. Hari not only stood between a wizard’s wand and his opponent. He stepped between two alphas about to do battle over territory rights. Bill as the intruder and Draco the one doing the defending.

      Hari let go of Bill’s wrist backing up a step but keeping between the two men. His back was to Draco, believing him to be no threat. After all he was unarmed. Hari had no idea what danger he could have been in right then. Stepping between two alphas like that. Draco had reacted on instinct, shooting out of his seat. He may not have been able to defend himself with wand, but his Dragon scales were impenetrable to most spells and jinxes. He didn’t have magic, no, but his claws were sharp, his roar deafening, and his breath fiery. His alpha wanted to defend his territory; both his new home and Hari. It didn’t matter to Draco’s animalistic dragon side that Hari was not his territory. His dragon disagreed snarling, _not yet._ His dragon had decided that Hari was his and an outside alpha was not going to expel him from his own territory. The only person to do that would be Hari. 

        “Let’s not fight you two. Bill, this is his home. He has every right to be here.” Hari had to defuse this situation fast. He loved his surrogate family with the Weasley’s, but they all despised the Malfoy’s. They wouldn’t understand hearing it from Bill first. His girlfriend Ginny had a very similar temper to her brother and his best mate, Ron and both of them hated Draco Malfoy. They would be furious to find out that Hari is living with him. This is why he hadn’t told them yet. If Bill stormed off before Hari could tell his side of the story, and went straight to his family, he might lose the entire family forever.

       “He’s a Malfoy, a Death Eater, and not to be trusted. Look what his kind did to me?”  Bill said angrily gesturing violently at the side of his face. Behind Hari’s back Draco flinched. His own talons didn’t cause the scars that marred William Weasley’s otherwise handsome face, but he felt responsible. He made it possible for the other Death Eaters to come into the Castle. Fenrir Greyback entered Hogwarts, attacked Bill and left him horribly scared. _How could Hari even think of defending me, maybe what he wrote, while unflattering, was all a lie. Maybe Hari didn’t really believe that I deserve a second chance._

     “You want to victimize him based off of the family he was born into?” Hari asked incredulously. “That is just as bad as he degrading you and your family for being poor. What about Andromeda Tonks? She was born a Black, a pure-blood, whose family supported Voldemort’s regime in some way or another. Are you saying she shouldn’t be trusted because of her family connections? Wow, I seriously misjudged you.” Hari really didn’t want to say these things; he was playing devil’s advocate.

      “What about Remus’s son, Teddy? Are you going to say that he should be euthanized like a sick puppy, because his father was a werewolf? Remus fought beside you for years, he fought and died for the same cause, he was your friend.” And then an idea came to him, in that moment. Could he do it? Could he pull off being so callus and keep his friendship alive?  “And then there’s you. Perhaps I should shun you for your scars. I could go to the press, like everyone is doing to Draco and his mother, and say, ‘Bill Weasley was bit by a werewolf, and he has the scars on his face to prove it. He has werewolf tendency, he’s not safe for the public. He shouldn’t be working at a respectable establishment like Gringotts.’ I could do that you know. They’d believe me too. Then maybe you’ll understand what it is like to be in their shoes, shunned by everyone.”   

      Bill stood there taken every verbal blow Hari threw at him. Hari’s message was slowly sinking in and deflating his ego. Draco stood in the background both stunned and proud that Hari was standing up for him. He smirked gloatingly at Bill, whose shoulders tensed up once more at the sight. _Was Draco impenitent for his actions?_  

      Hari seeing that Bill wasn’t looking at him but over his shoulder at Draco, who he believed with no doubt was silently taunting him. He’ll lay into Draco later. Bill was his friend, he wasn’t going break all ties with him over something that he very much wanted to keep in the past. It was time to drill his point home. Snapped his fingers in Bills face to get his attention once more. “Again what about Teddy, doesn’t he deserve a bit of normalcy, doesn’t he deserve to have a family? Remus made me Teddy’s godfather, which makes him my family. Narcissa and Draco Malfoy are Teddy’s only other living relatives beside his grandmother. They are his family. They have every right to be in his life as I.” Hari leaned heavily on this guilt card. He had to put an end to this; all Malfoy’s are evil, nonsense. Bills anger was slowly dispersing, Hari could see that, but he had let Bill know that he didn’t want to hear any more of this argument. So he’d address all points.  

    “He was cleared of all charges by the Wizengamot. The only Malfoy who deserves punishment for anything,” Hari paused in his speech, “justice was brought to him with a Dementors Kiss. You and the rest should be satisfied with the verdict. Or are you saying that the law and the Wizengamot are wrong?” Stunned that Hari Potter of all people was defending Malfoy, his school rival for years, whose family… _ah…Draco's family is not him_. Hari had a point, but the rest of the world didn’t feel the same. He felt it was his duty to inform Hari of this fact; it would be a long uphill battle with the public, otherwise. Already, people are outraged that Draco didn’t at least get a lifetime in Azkaban for his crimes.

    “He only got off because you testified for him!” He needed to drill that into Hari’s thick skull. “He still did horrible things, criminal things. He took the Mark, for one, and fought on You-Know-Whose side of the war. ” Bill tried to reason with the very angry green eyed boy in front of him. He just couldn’t see how Hari could defend Malfoy after how he was treated in school by him. _They hated each other didn’t they?_

     Hari cut his hand through the air like a blade. “I testified because I didn’t believe that a seventeen year old boy should be forced to spend his life in prison for mistakes he made as a boy of sixteen. His crimes, what crimes are those, Bill? Having the Dark Mark, because I know he was forced to take that mark! I saw it from my connection with Voldemort’s soul.” Both Bill’s and Draco’s faces in kind, lost color at that revealing piece of information.

     “The Dark Mark was forced on him by his Aunt Bellatrix, and Voldemort; all whom lived in his home for three years. What else was a sixteen year old supposed to do? He came home from school after finding out his father had been arrested by Order members, _you_ were a part of that, I might add. It’s in all the papers; the whole school knows and is whispering behind his back, or giving him dirty looks. He comes home for the summer, hoping from a reprieve, only to come home to a very displeased Voldemort. I know what a displeased Voldemort feels like; he would often mirror his emotions to me. It is not a pleasant experience. Voldemort is angry, livid even, and willing to take it out on the remaining Malfoy’s. He wants to kill them. He intends to kill them, actually. Bellatrix, deranged psychopath, Bellatrix still wants her sister alive if anything else and has a better idea. Initiate Draco into the fold, make him a Death Eater, and if he completes his task set out to do by the end of the school year; he and his mother live. Voldemort set Draco up for failure. Yeah, pisses you off doesn’t it Draco?” Hari said over his shoulder somehow catching Draco’s in drawn breath.

    “Yeah, Voldemort doesn’t give second chances, and Voldemort had been more than generous with his loyal followers. But he doesn’t see the Malfoy’s as loyal followers. You see, Lucius Malfoy first mistake was pleading not guilty after the first Wizarding world. He denied his loyalty to his master, saying he was under the Imperius Curse, and got away scot free.” Bill and Draco didn’t understand the exact muggle reference, but they caught the meaning.

      “But Lucius still had his uses. The second time Lucius was to use his connections with the Ministry and the Wizengamot to get me expelled from Hogwarts so I would lose the protection of the wards. That plan failed and I wasn’t expelled. So the next plan was to lure me away from the protection of the school.” Hari was pacing now as he told the encounters that led to Draco being forced to take the Dark Mark. Bill and Draco were enthralled.

     “The third time, Lucius was to lead a group of Death Eaters, undetected into the Department of Mysteries to set up an ambush, while Voldemort used our connection to lure me out of the Castle. He realized our minds were linked together through this scar when I informed the Order members that Voldemort was after something in the Department of Mysteries. Dumbledore sent Order members to guard what I believed at the time was a weapon. I was later able to use this same connection to save Mr. Weasley’s life when he was attacked protecting the weapon.” Bill’s eyes widened in realization at this information, while Dumbledore never told them everything, Bill was finally getting some unanswered questions. This was the changing point in the war. Draco on the other hand, was hearing all this for the first time from Hari’s lips paying close attention to the words that sealed his fate.

    “But the connection went both ways” Hari said pausing in his caged lion pacing, raising his index finger to the ceiling. “Voldemort was much better at using Legilimency than I. What’s more, I sucked at Occlumency.” Hari said rubbing his lightning bolt scar on his forehead. “He got inside my head, implant false visions so that I would believe Sirius was captured, so that I would voluntarily leave the protection of the school. The weapon was no weapon at all, but a prophecy that only Voldemort or I could touch. Voldemort believed that the prophecy would tell him a way to kill me seeing as I already survived the killing curse once.” Draco’s hand itched desperately. He wanted to retrieve his journal and write down this information as quickly as possible.

     Hari looked over at Draco, “This was your father’s fourth and most consequential mistake. Voldemort didn’t want the public knowing that he has returned. He was using spies and subterfuge in the Ministry to slowly take over. But when your father failed once more, the prophecy being destroyed and I escaped capture, Voldemort was forced to make an appearance, and it was made public. Your father ruined Voldemort’s important war strategies, and you and your mother were made to suffer for it, as your father was currently out of his reach.” Hari had stepped closer to Draco, momentarily forgetting Bill was carefully analyzing the situation, as Hari stopped in front of Draco he raised his hand to cup Draco’s cheek. Bill’s eyes narrowed flashing golden yellow as he scented the air. “Voldemort took your freedom, your fortune, your home, your dignity, and was going to take your life. When you survived the war and the Wizengamot was surely going to send you to Azkaban, I had to do it; I had to save your life.” Hari’s eyes were impossibly big and sparking behind his black round rimmed glasses. Draco shuddered and flinched away from the icy burn on his cheek, his dragon roaring in protest at losing Hari’s touch. Bill noticed the movement and knew what it meant.

      Hari looked from Draco and back to Bill, before he continued. “Serve him loyally, or die. Does that sound like a Death Eater to you?” Hari said in challenge. “That sounded like a scared teenager to me, desperate to survive and trapped by his own upbringing. He was only sixteen, my age, your brother’s age. What would you have done? He made a choice, the only choice his upbringing provided him.” Hari paused taking a deep calming breath, his next part he was going to reveal hurt Hari, because it felt like betrayal. “Dumbledore knew and did nothing, because he needed a pawn in his war game to get his spy closer to Voldemort. He had Severus kill him instead, a mercy kill on Snape’s part, but a calculating, manipulative one on Dumbledore’s part. Draco needed help; he didn’t ask for help, it’s not in his nature to do so. But Dumbledore knew that Draco was in trouble, a student that he as Headmaster should have protected, he didn’t. How many students did he make suffer for the greater good, Bill?” Hari cut off, on a choking gasp, turning away to lean on the countertop. “I can’t get into this anymore, I am too exhausted. Bill, no one else would save him, so I did.” That was it. That was all he had in him. If Bill didn’t see reason, he would cut him and the Weasley’s loose if he had too. He wasn’t going to abandon Draco now.  

    But then he turned back around and looked up to see Bill’s scarred face. With eyes full of sympathy and not pity, he addressed Bill’s final point. “Greyback is to blame for your scars. He’s dead. It’s in the past. You don’t have to forget, and most likely never will. But let’s move on.” He said imploringly. That did it for Draco; he couldn’t possibly be more in love with Hari Potter than he was right now. If Bill didn’t give into Hari’s demands, he might just let his dragon rip into the red headed Weasley for intruding on his and Hari’s sanctuary.  

      Draco loved every side of Hari’s personality, his moods could change at a drop of a quill feather, and Draco loved to explore them all. One side of him, the one that most people didn’t quite know about Hari, was his sassiness. Turning at just the right angle so Bill couldn’t see, Hari winked at Draco. So that when the mood conversation suddenly did a one eighty, Hari’s next words, “That doesn’t mean Draco isn’t a ‘Foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach,” wasn’t as scathing as they might appear. The result, Draco’s heart nearly burst out of his chest, it was pounding so hard, he nearly swooned from holding his breath. “Besides, I can handle Malfoy.” Hari said flippantly with a smirk over his shoulder at Draco. _Yes please,_ his alpha said reared its head. Draco still loved his sassiness, especially when it was directed at him.

      But when Draco looked over Hari’s head at Bill, he wanted to die. The older alpha could smell his reaction to Hari’s words, as his pheromones wafted into the confined space of the Kitchen, his scent blockers not enough to hide his pheromones. Draco blushed. The blush burning his cheeks so hot, he feared his blood would permanently stain his cheeks red.  He definitely did not want a _Weasley_ knowing his secret.

     Bill’s eyes were twinkling in humor. “Is there anything else you would like to add?” Bill asked, completely taken in by these two.

      “Yeah, he’s also an arsehole. But he grows on you, kinda like mold” Hari said with a shrug.

       Bill laughed and the argument was over. “You win, Hari. I still have my options, but I will keep them to myself and be civil, while in _your_ home.” Bill said referring to both of them. Hari smiled in gratitude.      

      The mood in the room was completely changed. The hostility was gone between Draco and Bill. Bill was a bit wary of Draco’s intentions. He had a feeling that Hari could be too naïve about somethings, especially Draco’s apparent attraction to him.    

    “Good. I have to prepare breakfast for Narcissa and Andromeda. I’ll have the house-elves put a Stasis charm on them, and then serve them once they are ready to eat. Draco, I told your mother about going into Diagon Alley, Narcissa declined the trip, so it’s just the two of us. Will you be able to pick up a wand for her based off of her magical signature?” Draco swallowed. The mob last time terrorized his mother, she couldn’t hide behind her pure-blood pride anymore, and she had no wand to protect herself, so she didn’t want to go out in public yet. Draco knew that Narcissa would prefer to choose her own wand, but Draco could purchase her wand for her. He nodded his head in acknowledgement.

     “Fantastic!” He exclaimed, “We’ll go as soon as Bill is done with the Spectre at the entrance. Dray, be a dear, and show Bill the way.” And like a deer caught in the headlights, he froze. He really didn’t want to be alone with Bill Weasley. But if he said that, Hari would be annoyed. He would make Bill wait, and that meant Bill was in what he considered his territory with his unfamiliar alpha stink. Draco’s upper lip curled. Fine, he’s do it; only because he wanted Bill away from Hari and gone from the house sooner.

     Right then two house-elves came hustling into the room from the stairs. Why not Apparate into the room? Well, Koako had startled Hari one too many times while he was in the kitchen, causing Hari to burn himself on the stove or drop something. Poor Koako had to punish herself after inadvertently causing harm to her master. It was agreed that the house-elves would only Apparated into a room if summoned, and Disapparate out of a room if dismissed, otherwise they had to do so outside the room and walk through the door. This also solved the issue of waking and startling Teddy from a nap.

     The two house-elves bowed in unison, “Good morning Master Hari, good morning Master Draco…” The female house-elf paused, not knowing who the third wizard in the kitchen was, while the male said, “good morning filthy Blood-traitor William Weasley.” He then banged his head on the leg of the table numerous times between words, “Sorry Master Hari, Kreacher is punishing himself accordingly. Master, tells Kreacher time and time again not to call any of the Weasley’s Blood-traitor.”

      Hari just said sighed and said, “Enough Kreacher, you understand your punishment. What did you and Koako want?”

      Hari inwardly cringing at the thought of what Hermione’s reaction would be when she returns from Australia, learning that instead of just the one house-elf, Hari now owned three. Koako and Dot were originally Narcissa’s house-elves as part of her dowry when she married Lucius Malfoy; however with his death and their return to their ancestral home, they wish to resume service to the scion of the House of Black. That meant that Hari would become their master, even if he became the de facto heir through legality rather than blood.

     The house-elves, ever loyal to the House of Black, followed Andromeda, Narcissa, and Draco’s orders, they belonging to the Black bloodlines, but deferred to Hari as head of the household.  As the Scion of two Noble and Ancient Houses, the house-elves wanted to call Hari, Master Potter-Black, but in a compromised, only called him Master Hari. The ladies in residence saw nothing amiss at having their titles being hyphened with their maiden name. They were tickled pink the first time the house elves used them. Draco couldn’t care less about continuing the Malfoy line; however, the Malfoy vaults were his and renouncing his father’s name entirely meant the Ministry would take hold of his still frozen vaults permanently. Draco followed Hari’s example in simply going by Master Draco. Even Teddy, as Hari’s heir presumptive was not spared being called Young Master, or Young Master Lupin-Black.

     Hari, uncomfortable with the formality had tried to convince the house-elf to relax some of their house-elf codes to servitude, to no avail. Trying to argue with house-elf logic was pointless; Kreacher still wanted to have his head shrunk and mounted on the wall with the rest of his family. With yet another compromise Hari shrunk those heads down small and then hide them behind vases of flowers. Kreacher accepted this. So in the entrance hall vases of flowers where seen, freshly changed each morning from the garden.

     Koako spoke up first as Kreacher was still disorientated after banging his head so many times. “Mistress Malfoy-Black wants to have breakfast on the terrace patio.”

     “Mistress Tonks-Black wants to eat breakfast in the garden, as well.” Kreacher piped up.

      Just then a tiny house-elf skipped in and spoke up without even bowing. “Young Master Lupin-Black is being up, fed, burped and changed. Master Hari sirs, informed me of wanting to “say good-morning and cuddle Teddy Bear,” before he departs. Dot has informed the Master, may Dot goes washing sheets now?” Hari blushed at the young house-elf, who quoted him near verbatim. The other two frowned at her in disapproval over how the younger house-elf behaved. A proper house-elf never asked things of their master. Hari would admit that it was quite refreshing, and knew she only wanted to do the wash, because she could choose, from an array of pillowcases, sheets, doylies, and other non-clothe item linen to use as clothes. She was quite the fashionista.   

         “Start in Dray’s room. He hasn’t been out in there in days.” Hari said, not turning from the stovetop. Draco flushed scarlet once more. Hari was going to turn him into a Gryffindor with the amount of red that stains his cheeks, or oh Salazar forbids, _a Hufflepuff._ Draco shuddered at that thought; _they have to be growing more than mandrakes in that greenhouse of theirs. There is no way someone can be that happy and carefree all the time._   

     Bill Weasley had a feeling that Draco might have just come out of his first rut. His pheromones were still a bit strong; the scent still penetrating through the scent blockers. As Draco led Bill up the stairs out of the kitchen, Bill said conversationally, “So, when was your birthday” to which Draco responded, “Shut up!” Bill laughed good naturally but Hari couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation. It’s not like he had super hearing or anything.

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        After Hari finished preparing breakfast and spent guilt free thirty minutes with his godson, who was getting quite good at lifting his head and looking around. He was still little and couldn’t do much, but oh what he could do with his godson he loved every moment of it. For instance, Teddy loved staring at his face, well that was true with everyone, but he wanted to delude himself that his godson thought of him special. He would often spend a lot longer with him singing, rocking, and tickling his hands and feet to see them clench and kick as if walking. He was positive that one of these days Teddy would soon be walking on air. When he brought that up to Andromeda, she tittered with Narcissa like school girls. Narcissa said soon Teddy would be able to see in color. Andromeda chimed in that once Nymphadora started seeing color, she would not only change the shape of her nose to match whoever was holding her, but she would often change her eyes and hair to match them as well.

       Hari was in a good mood as he skipped down the stairs to see the progress Bill had made on getting rid of Mad-Eyes booby-trap.  Draco was sitting down at the bottom step, immaculately clean, while Bill was just covered in dust. Hari joined Draco at the bottom step. Bill turned around and Hari had to hold onto Draco’s shoulders tight as he burst into wild gales of laughter, tears streaming down his face from laughing so hard. Bill looked like a dust spectre himself, gray dust clung to him everywhere, red hair was barely visible and blue eyes stared shocked. Draco just sat there smirking, happy to have Hari clutching him close.

        “Well I did it!” Bill said with forced cheerfulness.

        “You did something alright.” Hari gasped out. “You look ridiculous, Bill.”

       Bill eyes narrowed, flashed from blue to gold. “Don’t you two have places to be?”

       “Yeah, I have to set the wards before we go, though. I had to open them to let you in, but I’ll close them after you leave.” Hari said completely missed the color change as he still had his face buried in Draco’s shoulder. He stood up and within a few minutes of arriving he was bouncing back up the stairs to the first floor landing. Draco was still sitting, his eyes fixed on the departing figure. Bill was ruffling his hair dispelling dust. An accomplished Curse-Breaker in Egypt he got accustomed to getting rid of sand by the tons in old tombs, so a little dust or a waterfall of dust as it fell on him was no problem. He looked at Draco who was still looking after Hari. The situation was worrisome.

     “I don’t trust you or your mother, Malfoy, despite what Hari believes.” Draco whipped his head around. “I believe you are playing to his sympathy. I knew he had Andromeda and Teddy living with him. He is sentimental when it comes to his family. He has already lost so much to these wars; his parents, his godfather, family friends, and his own. He loses the people closest to him, so he’ll hold on to the ones he has even tighter. He is extremely loyal.” Bill loomed over Draco, his main of red hair framed his face, eyes flashed golden yellow, and he growls, “His friends are loyal to him.” There was a reason the Weasley’s were placed in Gryffindor.

     Draco stood up, he was just as tall as Bill, but didn’t have as much bulk to his muscles, and didn’t need a mane to intimidate; his creature inheritance making him tall, slim, and lithe. Pupils turned to slits and then seem to vanish as they blended into his pearlescent irises of swirling grey. He growled, clicking his tongue as gas built up in his esophagus, fire burned gold against white scales at his throat. _If Bill didn’t step down…_

   Bill stepped back, but didn’t step down. You didn’t need to physically be stronger than the other alpha to win in dominance. He changed his strategy instead. “You’re in love with Hari, or at least attracted enough to him that _ice-blood_ affects you.” Bill’s words were said almost absently, musingly, but the sharp look in his eyes let Draco know he knew exactly what he was doing. Draco swallowed the billows of smoke in his mouth, hacking uncontrollably. Bent at the middle, Draco looked up through watering eyes. “You can’t act on your feeling at the moment, but I don’t trust you. So I’ll be keeping a very close eye on you.” Bill stepped back, grabbing his dusty bag from the entrance floor, shaking it off with one hand, Bill placed his other hand heavily on Draco’s shoulder. “Malfoy, I don’t think…I don’t think Sirius ever got around to telling Hari about our blood.” Bill was of course talking about the vast majority of Wizardkind whom had some resemblance of creature blood in their genetics.

       Before Draco could comment, they heard the distinct whoosh of the hearth in the basement erupting in tell-tell green flames, letting them know the Floo network was open. Hari from the parlor above spoke through the Floo, “Alright, Bill. The Floo will be barred behind you.”

     Bill let his shoulder go and went to move around him, “Good luck,” Bill laughed mockingly, “you’re going to need it.” He said as he passed on the left to get to the basement to Floo home. Inside Bill’s head he said, _Awe crap, Ginny! This is going to be a nightmare._    

     ------

      Of all the things that Draco Malfoy loved about Hari bloody Potter, being an oblivious idiot was not one of them. But to honestly not know about the creature’s inheritance was almost blasphemy. After all it was a major part of the evolution of magical society. Draco took handfuls of his hair and pulled in frustration. His perfect hair now reflected the turmoil inside his head. _How does he bloody well not know?_ A sound on the stairs had Draco swirling around. Hari was leaning against the banister, Asclepius twisting up to great him. His arms were crosses over his chest, messy hair gloriously tousled and eyes sparkled like green gems behind his glasses. He was wearing a raggedy red T-shirt, and ripped blue jeans, and white scuffed trainers.

     He looked delectable. He looked _Muggle._ Draco had an epiphany. Did Hari Potter grow up Muggle? Was that it? Was that why he was oblivious to so many things? The whole wizarding world believed that he was tucked away, and sheltered. He had to snort at that statement. Sheltered? No, not with those bruises he tried to hide from everyone. So the Golden Boy was not raised in a wizarding household. _Gah!_ There goes that assumption that Saint Potter was raised in secret by the Weasley’s. Arthur Weasley as guardian would have been able to explain… _Gaurdian?_ That’s it then? Sirius Black was named his godfather, magical law would have made it possible for them to discuss it, but he was in Azkaban for twelve years and then a fugitive for three before his early death at the hands of his aunt Bellatrix. His second cousin couldn’t possibly have explained it to him, and no one else could.

     Hair suddenly spoke up interrupting his musing. “Are you ready? I, ah want to beat the crowd in Diagon Alley. To you know…er … not get mobbed.” Draco had to stop himself from laughing, were did Hari’s articulateness go. He settled for a smirk.

     “Yes. I, too would like not to be mobbed. Once was plenty enough, as is. Shall we go?” Draco headed towards the front door, faintly curious to see what the townhouse looked like from the sidewalk.

     Draco had just reached the door when he realized there wasn’t any door handle. A clearing of a throat had him turning around. Hari was fidgeting with that awful baggy red t-shirt. He reached up a hand behind his neck and rubbed. “I wanted to take you out to lunch afterward, so do you have clothes that are a little less, robe-y and a little more Muggle.”

    “You mean out there?” he gestured with an exaggerated hand twirl, hand outstretched towards the door behind him, and Hari guessed he meant Muggle London.

    “Yes, out _there_.” Hari mimicked the gesture a little more violently. “I haven’t had lunch at Sheryl’s in a while and it’s the only place where I can eat anonymously, away from the prying eyes of the press. You and I won’t get mobbed, the food won’t kill you, and despite what you may have been told, Muggle’s are no lepers. So, kindly change into more appropriate clothes, even for where I am taking you, wizarding robes are strange.”

     Hari Potter was an enigma. Where was he taking him that “strange” clothes were acceptable luncheon attire? _Intriguing!_ Head tilted slightly to the side, platinum blonde hair falling over one shoulder, he gave one long hum in his throat, before nodding his head in acceptance.

    It was Hari’s tern to watch Draco disappear up the stairs. His lips twitched and he fought to keep the smile off his face. It appeared that Draco would agree to do something if it caught his fancy. Hari seriously hoped to see a gobsmacked Draco Malfoy when he takes him to see Sheryl. _What else can I get him to do?_ And so Hari began to plan.

    Draco was in a rush to return to Hari’s side, but he had to stop and reapply scent blockers after he changed his clothes. The soaps used during his bath and the lotions he applied directly to his wet skin are from a high end scent blocker brand, ‘ _Scent-sational!’_ Their alpha line included an array of products; lotions, soaps, patches, balms, and aerosols. This particular brand of scent blockers will not completely mask his alpha scent or make him nose-blind to the world like other inferior brands do, but instead neutralized his heavier alpha pheromones and allowed some of his natural scents through. The advantage of this is it allows for other alphas or omegas to identify him as such, without his pheromones overwhelming their senses.

         Draco’s scent glands at his throat were swollen and over sensitive after his first rut. In lieu of a couple _Quick-fix Scent Patches_ that would often irritate and inflame the skin, he chose a roll-ball balm and soother lotion combo. He may not have been presented long but his mother had instructed him well on the delicate balance between his skin sensitivities and the type of blocker used. His method might take longer to apply, but it had the added benefit of not causing swelling and redness to the clogged gland.  It was a delicate balance between the amount of lotions applied, and the amount of pheromones that could seep through.

        It was important that he, as a juvenile alpha (recently presented) to not accidentally release his pheromones in public, because of the chaos that would incur, and the consequences would be great. Releasing pheromones in front of other alphas would most likely result in physical altercations because other alphas can misinterpret it as signs of intimidation, aggression, or encroaching on their territory. Scenting is releasing pheromones with the intent of marking something as your possession, from an item to a person, and is done by rubbing their scent glands over the person or item. Releasing pheromones with the intent to attract a mate is chaotic, especially when an omega is near, because it can send an omega into a premature heat. When an omega is in heat this causes a chain reaction of alphas going into rut frenzies and fighting over omegas. Omega’s could be injured, raped, or even killed during these brawls. Depending on the damage of property, extent of injury, or in the event of rape or murder of an omega, the alpha could be faced with a minimum one year or lifetime in prison, or immediate Dementors Kiss, a fate worse than death.   

       Having a scent blocker that doesn’t completely suppress his scent all together is important, because scents serve a multiple of purposes socially; identifying self, emotions, and property.

       First, scent is used to identify self; who you are, what your secondary gender is, and what creatures’ blood you inherited. Each individual has their own unique scent, and although scents can be similar, usually familial, they are never the same. One can tell an individual’s secondary gender by scent, in general an omegas scent is reported to be sweater than alphas more savory scent. One might even be able to recognize what type of creature blood a wizarding family possesses by their elemental scent; earth, fire, wind, and water. Since, his inheritance Draco has come to realize that a dragon inheritance has a base smell of wind and fire.     

      Second, it helps identify emotions. Scents and tastes are nearly indistinguishable from one another, as such; each scent/taste has a multitude of possible emotions associated with them, beginning with the six primary tastes and emotions. The six primary tastes are sweet, sour, salty, pungent/spicy, bitter, and astringent/dry. These can be combined with the six basic emotions; fear, anger, sadness, joy, disgust, and surprise. Sweet is associated with feelings of love, care, and compassion. When scenting the pheromones released are overly sweet, meaning possessiveness and attachment. Sour is associated with feelings of anger, envy, Jealousy, and criticism which may be result of unfulfilled desires. Salty is associated with curiosity, confidence, interest and a zeal for life, and brings greed and ambition. Pungent/spicy is associated with anger, violence and hatred, but also brings, boldness, vigor and vitality. Bitter is associated with dissatisfaction and anger, brings feelings of isolation, loneliness, grief and sorrow. Astringent/dry is associated with feelings of insecurity, anxiety, depression, absent mindedness and fear.

       Third, scent helps to identify property; by scenting and in turn others scenting you, you are making a claim on what belongs to you, who you claim as friend, family, or lover, and who in turn claims you. Being able to identify the property of an individual is key, because people regardless of gender will advertently (alphas and omegas) and inadvertently (betas or unpresented) scent their belongings. Even if betas and unpresented individuals do not have the adaptive nose structure to smell these particular scents and pheromones they do have them and can scent their belongings by proximity and vice versa.

      Hari was a minor unpresented and thus he couldn’t detect pheromones and individuals unique scents, and his own scent was masked by the hereditary curse of _ice-blood_ which smells like snow. As is, Hari smells like the outdoors, as he potters around in the garden often enough that these smells cling to him and he would bring these scents into the house. Draco had no doubt in his mind that Hari has creatures blood, how could he not being the scion of the Noble House of Potter, but it was unclear what he would present as. He just as easily present as beta, scion be damned. Only in Draco's wildest fantasies could Hari present as the rarest male omega, which would be a dream come true for any gay alpha like himself.

     Draco wasn’t delusional to place all his hopes and dreams on a one percent chance that Hari would present as omega, or that he would choose Draco as a mate, or even if the Wizarding World would allow him to even court The Hari Potter. Draco resigned himself to the fact that he would be the last of the Malfoy line, and thus it didn’t matter what Hari presented as, he would still put his whole heart into courting Hari. First he needed to get into his good gracious which meant putting up with Hari’s every whim. If that meant putting on Muggle clothes and going out into the Muggle world then so be it. He, as the Muggles put it, was truly on his way to becoming whipped.     

       After checking his appearance once more in the mirror, fixed a few out of place hairs, and smoothed down non- existent wrinkles in his clothes, he made his way down the stairs. Instead of the ground floor, Draco found Hari in the parlor. “Why is it Potter that if you took the time to call in a Curse-Breaker, a Weasley at that, are we exiting through the garden?”

   Hari ignored the question and asked instead. “Why does it look like you just stepped off the cover of a Vogue magazine?”

     Draco scoffed looking arrogant as always. “If I have to dress like a Muggle, be seen as a Muggle, I better be the best looking one, and not like some popper street urchin, hadn’t I?” Of course Draco had Muggle clothes it was required to blend in with Muggles when leaving the secluded wizarding villages and shopping centers. That answer irritated Hari, taking it as a personal insult to his own Muggle clothes he wore.

     Twirling to face the Floo, Hari activated it and stepped back saying, “Well you are in for a surprise, at least I get to mess up that pretty hair.” Draco stepped through, stomping down ruthlessly on the thought that said, _Hari thinks my hair looks pretty._ No man, not even a bent one like himself, wanted to be called pretty. At least that is what Draco told himself; he didn’t take insult to Hari calling him princess that morning, _much._ He tried to convince himself that was because of the shock of having Hari bloody Potter walking in on him bathing.

     Once out in the garden, Hari walked through the grass, while Draco took the gravel circle path around. Hari rolled his eyes, but said nothing. The shed door was on a slide instead of a hinge, and it was a little rusted, so he had to put a little muscle behind the push to the right to open the door. It was a tiny space, most of it taken up by the motorcycle Sirius had left him. After the disaster of an escape from the Dursley’s on his seventeenth birthday, Mr. Weasley had shrunk it back down and fixed it up after it was crashed into Andromeda and Ted Tonk’s yard. Mr. Weasley was fascinated with Muggle artifacts, flying vehicles in particular. Hari remembered the flying car from second year, they flew it all the way to Scotland, before crashing it into the Whopping Willow Tree, and it now runs wild in the Forbidden Forest. Hopefully, Mr. Weasley didn’t take out all the security measures, he could live without the giant brick wall, but he quite liked the dragon fire from the exhaust pipe.

     Pulling off the tarp, dust shooting up into the air from the year of sitting idle, Hari hoped it was running alright. He really wanted to see Draco’s face when he got on and jump started it. He got rid of the sidecar and Draco would have to ride behind him on the seat. Rolling it out of the shed, Draco was just walking up to the shed, having taken his sweet time walking the path. _Smug Bastard._

    Draco’s smirk fell away as he looked at the metal monster that Hari was standing up by some type of metal twig. _How is that tiny metal twig holding up all that weight_? Hari then swung one leg over as if he were riding a broom, and put a helmet on his head, snapping the buckle beneath his chin, and held up another for Draco. Then Draco had another scary thought, _My hair!_

   Shooting daggers at Hari, Draco fought down his rising panic. “Potter…”

    “What’s the matter, Malfoy? You scared?” Hari said with an uncharacteristic leer.

       Him? Scared of a Muggle death trap?  “Deathly.” Hari laughed at the unexpected confession.

     “I’ve rode on this thing several times,” wisely not mentioning nearly dying last summer riding sidecar, “and Sirius taught me how to ride the summer before fifth-year. It’s perfectly safe, I won’t let us crash.”

    Draco gulped, but stepping forward. “You said, Sirius taught you before fifth-year?” He inquired.

    “Yes, he taught me how to fix it up, keep it running, and how to ride. You doubt me. I’ve saved your life twice at the Battle of Hogwarts, and got you out of prison. I think you could trust me not to kill you now, Malfoy.” They only called each other by their last names when they were annoyed with each other.

   “I trust you,” Draco said as he clipped the straps together and swung his leg behind Hari. “I’ll have a word with Sirius later, though.” He muttered under his breath. _Taking the time to teach your godson how to ride this contraption, but not telling him the key fundamentals to wizarding society._ Hari heard the softly muttered words, but chose to ignore them as he raised the kickstand. He then instructed Draco where to keep his feet and hands while in motion. Draco wobbled a little and clutched tight to Hari’s shirt when Hari suddenly jumped up to kick-start the engine with a mighty roar. Draco didn’t know he was praying to every god he could think of, when the engine started and they wobbly started around the side of shed. As they exited through the brick wall that shimmered like going through a smoke screen Hari flicked down the visor that just fit over his glasses. Draco held on tighter as they maneuvered slowly down the back alley, the width little more than a one car lane dipped in the center to allow drainage.

    Draco was exhilarated at the motion the motorbike made as it zipped and swerved around much larger cars. It was much like flying a broomstick, the steering, except instead of being high in the sky and only having to worry about a couple bludgers knocking them off their brooms, they were on the ground with thousands of other vehicles, too close for comfort. But Draco wasn’t scared, he felt oddly safe with his arms wrapped around the taunt muscles of Hair’s abdomen, this moment paralleled the terrifying fiendfyre chase in the Room of Requirements. Draco used the pretense of being scared to hold on tighter to Hari on the busy streets of London.

    Hari slowed to a stop, serving around an older black gentleman in his green station wagon, to squeeze onto the sidewalk, reserved parking for motorbikes and scooters, and a block away from the Leaky Cauldron. Hari put a hand on Draco’s shoulder briefly to stop him from walking onward. “Look Mal…Draco, I gain enough unwanted attention as is with the whole war thing,” Hari flipped off his fame as if saving the world was no big deal, “and I’d rather not go in their without my cloak, but I know they are very hostile towards you.” Hari seemed to be struggling with himself.  He held out some type of silken cloak. Draco raised one eyebrow at the odd offerings. “Take my cloak and if we get separated meet me at Ollivander’s”

    “Potter it's bloody 30 degrees out here, and you want me to wear a sweltering cloak, aye, I’d surely catch my death under that thing.” Hari furrowed his brow, before it smoothed out when he laughed.

      “It’s not just any bloody cloak, Dray, it’s an invisibility cloak. Not even death itself could find you beneath this cloak, at least according to legend.” Of course Draco recognized the bloody cloak now. How could he have forgotten the sound of crunching cartilage underneath the sole of his shoe when he stomped on Hari's nose before tossing the thing over his Stunned body? But what was this rubbish about death not finding him.  “It’s been in my family for generations.” Hari prompted. Draco scoffed. _Invisibility Cloaks can’t possibly last that long._ The enchantments are tricky and they are patchy at best, only lasting a few short weeks at best. “It’s a Deathly Hallow, Draco.” That had Draco’s eyes bugging out, and his mouth unhinged.

     _Draco didn’t believe in the Hallows, it was just a child’s story. Yet..._ He fingered the cloak feeling the silky texture. It also didn't have a trace of magic, ruins sewn into the fabric, nor celtic knots in the lining. It was also said that a person couldn't survive the Killing Curse, here was the one exception. Is that how he survived, he hunted down the Hallows and became “the Master of Death.” Draco didn’t realize he had spoken out loud until Hari spoke up pleadingly.

     “Please don’t be spreading that around, Malfoy. A new title is the last thing I need. I already get enough slack for being the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived, and the Savior of the wizarding world.”

    “Surely you’re having me on, Potter. Having a right laugh at me, are you? Answer me this, Potter.” Draco demanded. “The Death Stick, the Resurrection, and the Invisibility Cloak; exist?”

    “Well yeah, Dumbledore had the Elder wand, and the Resurrection stone belonged to the Gaunt family, and the Invisibility Cloak has been passed down to the eldest Potter for generations. I’m not trying to hoodwink you; Dray…I just don’t want it known. I’d rather not be dueled every day over possession of the Elder Wand. Its owners have a tendency to be murdered in their sleep.”  

    Draco finally closed his mouth with an audible snap. “Potter, you are outrageous.  How can you just flippantly tell me the Deathly Hallows are real, and then shrug it off that you own one?”

    “Actually I’ve owned all three.” Draco growled deep in his throat. _This conversation isn’t over._ He thought as he swung the cloak around his shoulder. Hari gave a long slow blink at just seeing a blonde head, before it too disappeared when Draco pulled up the hood. Hari forced out an overly bright smile, ignoring the pang of jealousy and possessiveness over having Draco beneath his cloak.

    “Okay Draco, here is the plan. Bill already withdrew gold from my vault, enough for everything we need and then some. That saves us a trip to Gringotts. Sometime soon we will need to sort out your gold issue. The Ministry still has not release their hold on your vault, but I intend to give you back possession of your gold, ‘cause it’s not mine. We go to Diagon Alley, I usually get swarmed so try to stay back, and the cloak won’t save you if a too eager witch bumps you. It’s not sound proof either. I’d recommend a silencing charm of some sort. Meet me at Ollivander’s.” Hari paused. “Draco?…Draco…Damn you, Malfoy. You prick.”

     Draco was still there. He was still ticked off at Hari, but for now that emotion was slowly being washed away by fascination. The invisibility cloak fit his frame perfect; he didn’t need to stoop or anything. It didn’t hinder any of his senses, either. He could see around him perfectly, he could hear every word Hari said, and annoyingly enough he could smell Muggle London. He clenched the cloak tight to his body, wishing that he could make out Hari’s scent. He imagined it would be just like Hari were scenting him, the invisibility cloak like a tight embrace, engulfing him in his scent. He took a deep wistful breath, smelling only laundered cloth and the faint smell of snow. _Ice-blood_ lurked in the background. The smell a clear warning, _Stay away, don’t touch._     

     When Hari started off, Draco followed. The Leaky Cauldron was located on Charing Cross Road, just around the bend from where Hari parked his motorbike. He wasn’t worried about it being stolen, the motorbike could only start with his magic signature and a couple added anti-burglary hexes insured that no one could boost it for parts. When Hari approached the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron with Draco hidden beneath the invisibility cloak, the sign appeared before them only visible to Wizardkind. The centuries old Pub and Inn was the oldest in all of London, located between two Muggle businesses, a book and a record shop. Despite the grubby appearance of the pub and the people that established it, the Leaky Cauldron was known for its welcoming environment and cheerful patronage. The Inn, unlike the shabby looking pub on the ground floor, hosted pleasantly nice rooms above, with comfortable beds, highly polished oak furniture, and a fireplace that was always lit for guests.

      To Hari, well it was just as dark and shabby as he first remembered it, but the people who visited were just as wonderfully strange and inviting in their happy chatter. Hari felt a welcomed warmth at seeing the pub so lively once more. It was so … so dismal during the war. People were afraid to leave their homes and poor Tom, the barkeep and owner, was left to tend an empty bar and vacant rooms. But now the pub was hopping with cheerful voices, sharing a pint and eating foods at tiny tables in shadowy corners. 

     Hari took a quick assessment of the pub as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light.  It was like déjà vu. Instead of the larger than life half-giant Rubeus Hagrid, Keeping of Keys at Hogwarts for him to hide behind, or his invisibility cloak to hide under, he was left exposed in the doorway. Just like before, the pub quieted, and the silence was almost as deafening as the sudden eruption of sound of voices and of chairs scraping on floors, as the patrons went mad clambering over each other and chairs and tables. _Dear Merlin, did that small fellow just walk the full length of the bar to reach him first? Yep._

The small man with giant mustache and even larger orange hat, bounced on his feet, pumping Hari’s hand up and down excitedly. Hari wasn’t listening; he stood like a deer in the headlights fighting his inner demons. He felt trapped, surrounded, with no way out. Hari did not like crowds. Forget the door behind him. He felt the walls and people close in on him, as he fought his breath, his vision was going black around the edges. And then he felt a warm hand at the base of his spine, _Draco._ He wasn’t alone, and although Draco didn’t have a wand, he literally had Hari’s back.

     Draco was hidden beneath the invisibility cloak, seething with a jealous rage. He was currently busy trying to keep his alpha dragon from roasting the man enthusiastically pumping Hari’s hand. He felt aggravated and itchy under his skin; the crowed was growing, a mob appearing. He had to do something, he couldn’t get trapped. He had to get these people away from Hari.

      Hari was _his._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya all,
> 
> I know readers will be eager to read the next two chapters posted along with this one, but don't forget to show your love for this one.
> 
> If you skipped over the child abuse here's a summary:  
> Hari does all the cooking for the Dursley's but is only aloud scraps or unwanted food from the table. Hari purposefully burns food so that he can get a little extra food whenever he can. He gets discovered and as punishment Hari's aunt feeds him raw and spoilt meat. He is forced to eat it, and gets food poisoning. He goes in and out of consciousness and discovers that this is not the first time he had been abused enough to warrant a trip to the hospital. Hari's memories had been altered so he wouldn't remember the incident and others by Dumbledore.


	9. The Return of Hari Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hari and Draco are trapped inside the Leaky Cauldron by a mob of Hari's admirers. Draco’s alpha instincts are at war within his conscious. How will Draco react to the crowds in Diagon Alley, and later as Hari takes him out to lunch at Sheryl's Place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please go back and read Chapter 8: The Curse Breaker
> 
> The Wonderful World of Harry Potter, the characters and images all belongs to the amazing mind of J.K. Rowling and no copyright infringement was intended in the creation of this fan fiction.
> 
> Warnings/Disclaimers: Xenophobia, homophobia, and racism. (I do not share any of these views) Also mentions of gaybourhoods and the LGBTQ+ community. 
> 
> Enjoy!

    Draco was only a step behind Hari when they entered the dim lit pub, and did not expect to plow into him when he came to an abrupt halt once they crossed the threshold. Draco’s first instinctual thoughts were; _why did he stop?_ Did he not realize that if he kept walking he wouldn’t get trapped? Did he want to make an entrance, pausing in the entrance to add dramatics, and guarantee the people in the pub would notice him? Draco saw Hari tense in front of him, bracing for the tidal wave of admirers who eagerly awaited their heroes return. Draco sneered. The sneer covering up how he really felt. He was jealous of all these people clambering for his secret crushes attention. He watched as one tiny wizard in a horrible orange hat, jumped on the bar, _oh Tom will just love that_ , and sprint across it running over drinks right and left to jump down in front of Hari first and pump his hand and chattered wildly at him.

      Draco’s alpha instincts came to the forefront instantaneously. Draco was just about to do something rash like yank Hari outside the door again, or rip the invisibility cloak off his shoulders and roar loud enough to cause an avalanche from here in the Alps. Taking a deep breath in, his mind not catching up with what his body was doing, when he looked at Hari’s face. Hari Potter was not enjoying the attention that Draco believed, but was frozen stiff, petrified. His alpha instincts went from fight to flight. He had to protect what was his, and the only way to do that was to get Hari out of that situation. Some part of his mind must have still been functioning, because instead of pulling Hari backwards and out the front door, he was carefully adding pressure to Hari’s lower back, pushing him forward, urging him to move forward to the back alley and the entrance to Diagon Alley. The small pressure at the base of Hari’s spine must have knocked him out of whatever trance was keeping him rooted to the spot, because he took a shaky step forward and then another. The people in front of Hari suddenly fell quiet, parting like the Red Sea allowing Hari to pass.

    Hari didn’t say a word, he couldn’t. He somehow found the strength to keep moving, limbs feeling heavy like wading through waist high water. With one step in front of the other, focusing on his white scruffy trainers, and the intense fiery touch of Draco Malfoy for comfort at his back. When they made it passed the customers/admirers/mob, he let out a silent breath in relief. “Thank you, Draco.” He breathed out quietly, almost inaudible beneath the rushing sound of his blood in his ears like waves crashing against a rocky coast.  

    “Not a problem, Potter.” Draco spat out, not wanting to reveal how close he came to losing control in there. “Honestly, how could you freeze up like that? Destroyer of the Greatest Dark Lord of all time, the wizarding world’s savior…ha!”

    “I don’t know Malfoy.” Hari said through clenched teeth, reverting back to calling Draco by his last name in reflex. Signing, “It’s complicated.” He really didn’t know why it was happening. But unfamiliar situations caused negative reactions in him. He knew in his rational brain that he was no longer in danger, but sudden noises, or an unexpected touch, and even large crowds now unsettled him. He never really liked crowds before, and now he was being suffocated with all the attention, unwanted or not, it was stressful. It was now a reoccurring situation, where he would panic and he’d withdraw inside himself, frozen, or worse his magic would rush to the surface lashing out violently. Somehow Draco’s touch calmed him and he was grateful for the git, nonetheless.

        Moving about Diagon Alley unnoticed was proving to be impossible for Hari Potter, which is why he stayed away from the public eye after the funerals. He was angry that while attending many of his loved ones funerals, the press would follow him everywhere, focusing on him instead of the respect the fallen heroes deserved. Trying to quickly finish their shopping was impossible. Draco was nearly discovered several times, if it wasn’t for quick Quidditch maneuvering, Draco would have been discovered several times over. As is, he handily avoided being trampled over, knocked down, or elbowed in the face by an overly excited witch. Fed up with the crowed mooning over Hari, and frustrated that he was unable to make a claim over the popular boy savior over several matron witches and wizards bloody auctioning off their unwed, and some wed, daughters. Many of them were asking for confirmation that his birthday was indeed the end of July. No doubt, angling for when/if he comes into a creature inheritance. One woman even offered to be in a polygamous relationship, _“willing to share, my arse!”_ Draco seethed. Draco had full intentions of courting Hari himself, and Draco didn’t share.

       Apparently Hari had enough of the attention as his magic suddenly sent the crowd to the cobbled street. Draco managed to stay on his feet when Hari’s magic spontaneous lashed out, and saw fleetingly Hari’s head disappear around a building. Draco hurried after him, somehow getting to the alley before the crowd realized which direction he went, and hastily hissed out, “Disillusionment charm and Disapparate now Potter.”  Draco rushed away, not wanting to be trapped in the dead end. He heard the unmistakable crack of Hari Disapparating. He had no choice but to make his way to Ollivander’s by himself.  

       Draco slipped off Hari’s invisibility cloak as he entered Ollivander’s, the bell above the door chimed. Two witches stood behind the counter, the same two who chased him out of the shop the first time around. There smiles of welcome faded the instant they laid eyes on Draco.

      “What are you doing here, Death Eater scum?” One hostile witch snarled. She had a rather horrid red hair, perhaps a botched  hair color charm done on her, and rather unlike Hermione Granger before fourth year, didn’t bother getting her teeth magically shrunk. Draco sniffed, beta, he thought with a sneer in return. 

     “I thought my cousin and I made it quite clear that you are not welcome here.” The other witch with bright yellow, not blonde, but yellow hair said. _So they were cousins and not siblings, but still nieces of the wand maker_ , Draco thought as he hesitantly stepped away from the door and closer to the counter.   

       “I don’t want any trouble here. I just need to purchase a wand. I am a paying customer. Your uncle’s wands are the best in the UK, my family has continued to use this shop for generations, and I intend to continue. Please just let me make my purchases and I will leave.” Draco now pleaded. He desperately wished that Hari would arrive soon.

       “Your gold is not welcome here. How are we to believe it isn’t counterfeit leprechaun gold after all?” Horrid red hair and teeth said.

     “Counterfeit or likely stolen, your Gringotts vaults were audited and the Ministry took ahold of your gold, didn’t they?” Yellow hair chimed in speculative. She was close to the truth, the Ministry still has the Malfoy’s vaults on lock down, but Hari has the vast majority of his gold in his own vaults.

 ------

      Hari was cursing as he was forced to take yet another detour in Diagon Alley to avoid the ever growing crowd of people that entered the shopping center in hopes of seeing The Hari Potter. This was exactly why he took sanctuary in Grimmauld Place, he received no privacy out in the public. Now, he was rushing to return to Draco’s side. It wasn’t just Narcissa and Draco that needed a new wand. Hari was currently using Draco’s Hawthorn wand. Hari’s own Holly wand was not performing as well despite repairing it with the Elder wand. Hari thought that perhaps the core was damaged and Hari had only repaired the wood. Maybe Ollivander could repair it, and he wouldn’t need to purchase a new one.

         Draco’s Hawthorn wand worked for him but the magic felt off. Not to mention he didn’t feel right using the wand when it use to belong to Draco. When Hari tried to return the wand, Draco held it for a mere minute then returned it saying, “it no longer fits my magic as it is now.”

       _What did that mean?_

       So here they were, in Diagon Alley running from mobs of a different kind. When Hari finally made his way to Ollivander’s he shed his disillusionment charm upon entering the door, the bell above sounded his arrival. Hari physically bristled at what he heard and saw. Draco was standing his back to the door, his hands raised in surrounded, and pleaded for service. Not only was he pleading with these two ungrateful witches for service, they in turn were ridiculing him. Prior to sixth year, with all the ridiculing Draco Malfoy had done to him and countless others, Hari would have called it cosmic justice, or karma. However, in light of the events leading up to the war and how much Hari has seen Draco change, hearing Draco plea was just wrong, somehow. He was really angry. Draco had not ridiculed them or caused them physical pain like he has others. If anyone had the right to mock Draco it would be him.  

        The witch with big yellow hair and abnormally large white nails saw Hari and dug said nails into the other witches arm, causing her to yelp. When Horrid red hair saw him in turn, they squawked and squealed over each other, and no doubt would have clambered over the counter if it wasn’t for Hari’s quick lifting of a halting hand.   _Wow, it worked?!_

        “I am looking for Ollivander, to either repair my old wand or purchase a new one.”

      “We will be right with you, Mr. Hari Potter, sir.” One of them responded, before quickly turning her gaze to Draco. “I am sorry, you’ll have to take your business elsewhere, and we have more urgent matters to attend to.” One of the cousins, Draco didn’t bother asking for an introduction, focused her eyes on Hari. Hari’s eyes widened incredulously as she winked suggestively at Hari.

       _Did that witch just wink at me? Hari thought._

_Did that bitch just wink at Hari? Draco thought._

      Hari was very pissed at the audacity of these two witches. It wouldn’t do to blow up the shop in his anger, so he tried to grin but it may have fallen short to just a grimace. He really wanted to send a stinging jinx at the two witches. “No, no…I won’t need your services. I only require service from Mr. Ollivander. If he isn’t available now, I’ll have to come back another day.”

      One gasped out, “no” while the other turned on Draco, “Look what you’ve done. Hari Potter doesn’t want our services, because you’ve stunk up the place. Just how many respectable customers are we going to lose, because they believe you are associated to our shop?”

     Hari was just opening his mouth to blurt out, “I don’t need service from bigoted wenches like you,” when a familiar hoarse voice spoke from the shadows of towering wand boxes.

     “You will find” Ollivander spoke, “That who we decide are “respectable” has no effect on the wands choosing to who its partner shall be. The wand chooses the wizard, always, silly chit. We merely provide the venue. Mr. Malfoy is welcome here. A wand shall choose him, or not. If that were to occur, then I shall recommend him to another wandmaker. No wizard shall ever be turned away.” His milky silver eyes starred dead into his nieces’ eyes. “Remember that Sasha, Natalia.” He said mildly as he scooted around them to the front counter.

      Draco took careful stock of the man, a Dryad inheritance, by the woodsy smell, as most Wand Makers were. His nieces Natalia and Sasha, he still didn’t know who was who, were both betas. Draco couldn’t smell woods on them. He was satisfied to know that they wouldn’t make it far in wand making.

      Garrick Ollivander looked and sounded like death, even more so since his imprisonment in the wine cellar at Malfoy Manor. He had wild Einstein hair, white and frizzy. His eyes were a creepy milky white, and seemingly sightless. “Awe, Draco Malfoy! I remember every wand I have ever sold, you know. I never regret whom I sold them to. A wand is a very powerful tool, which in the wrong hands can become a weapon. You see, Mr. Malfoy, it is not the wand, the type of magic practiced, that turns you evil. No, it is the choices we make.” He glanced over Draco’s shoulder at Hari before returning his attention to Draco. “You’ve made wrong choices, yes, but you sought to correct them. We all change, some more than others, but we change nonetheless, if we choose to. It’s not all black and white. ”

      He clapped his hand and startled the four other occupants in the shop. He rushed around the counter, and eagerly turned the sign in the front from “vacant” to “occupied”. Mr. Ollivander only catered to one patron at a time, in this case three; Draco, Narcissa, and Hari. “Let’s start with your mother, I sense her magical signature on you, ooh a signet ring, quite fancy.” He said when Draco handed over the ring.         

      “Yes, 12 solid inches made of Holly with a Dragon Heartstring core. The Heartstring belonged to an anc-“ He trailed off looking at Hari, with a look of comprehension in his eyes. Draco closed his eyes, resigned to the truth. Hari Potter didn’t know about creatures’ blood, Ollivander not being able to talk about an ancestor of his, an actual dragon, had donated the heartstrings to Ollivander to make wand cores for the Black’s. “I have those exact perimeters, but to see if they suit, that’s the issue. Let’s see here…” Draco looked up to see Ollivander absently scratching his goatee. Mr. Ollivander smiled as he went through wands one after another, before settling on a very similar 9 ¾ inch rigid Holly with Dragon Heartstring core. It had an Ivory handle with a green emerald center, and elaborate black pearls embroidered into the hilt of the wand. Draco was pleased to note that it was exactly to his mother’s tastes.

       “That will be seven Galleons. Let’s con-tin-ue! Your old wand Mr. Malfoy, I do believe Mr. Potter is in possession of it. Is that right?” Mr. Ollivander turned his eyes on Hari once more. “This wand, not your wand defeated the Dark Lord.” Hari gulped while the other three occupants sucked in their breaths audibly. Hari handed over the wand in question. “Unicorn hair…yes, yes, no not suitable for the both of you at all. Unicorn hair is too _innocent_ ; you’ve both matured too much. Still loyal, but the strengths of the spells cast with either not be as strong or unravel over time. Not suitable for wizards as magically strong as you two.” Mr. Ollivander hummed in his throat eyes raised to the ceiling, and hands on hips. “We’ve tried quite a few wands the last time you were here, but now I see you take more after your mother than your father. We’ll try the same…he trailed off wandering off in the process, “Give this one a wave.”

     Draco touched the golden handle, and a white light seemed to radiate from the core, and the wood hummed. Every hair on Draco’s body stood at attention. “Very good… very revealing, Mr. Malfoy. This wand is 13 inches made of aspen, a slight curve at the tip, surprising, no? NO! Oh well, this wand core is brother to your mother’s. Draco took a closer inspection of the design carved into the golden handle; it was of a dragon eating its tail, Ouroboros. It felt perfect.

     After paying fourteen galleons for both his and his mother’s wands, he waited for Hari to find out if his old wand could be repaired. Mr. Ollivander explained that the core’s magic was lost forever, “Although the Elder Wand was indeed able to repair your wand, the magic is no longer there as Fawkes burnt his final 100 yearlong cycle and passed into the Realm of the Gods for good. You see, the Phoenix has a unique bond with their feathers and that is why when they die, so too does the magic of its feathers. I am sorry Mr. Potter you’ll need a new wand.”  

      Hari kicked the toe of his trainers against the dust on the floor and sighed. He rubbed at his eyes which were scratchy from lack of tears he so desperately wanted to shed. He just wanted his life to go back to before fourth year. Everything that was a constant in his life since he discovered he was a wizard has been ruined with the war. Hedwig; his first ever birthday present and companion, murdered while still trapped inside a cage before plugging to the earth. His Firebolt; flying was the one thing that he enjoyed above all others too was destroyed the same day. And now his wand; he had his Holly and Phoenix feather core wand since the day he discovered he was a wizard. Everything was changing.

     Hari was steadily getting more and more dejected as more and more wands rejected him, with Mr. Ollivander standing above him hymning and hawing. He felt like the eleven year old boy during his first trip into Diagon Alley, feeling insecure about his presents in the wizarding world. Mr. Ollivander looked up switching his gaze between Draco and Hari, before saying, “I have wondered if it would be the same, I have just the wand.” He quickly swept around a tower of wands and they could faintly hear, “Yes, yes! I have just the thing, I am sure. A supplier from the America’s shipped the core to me a few decades past. It’s quite unusual core. I have only used it in one other wand.” He came out from beneath one twirling wand tower, “Lily Evans.” He said it so nonchalant that Hari thought he heard wrong. Have the same core as my mother? _Me. Oh I wish_ … Hari really wanted to feel connected to his mother; in any way he could other than having his mother’s eyes. But he was frightened to be rejected by something he so desperately desired, would be too much.

       Hari reached out his trembling hand to grasp the pale willow wand, two delicately strands twined around each other in an intimate dance. Hari felt the wood vibrate between his fingertips, and his magic hummed just beneath the surface of his skin.  “Spectacular!” Hari mumbled, giving the wand a quick flick sending whimsical bubbles in a rainbow of colors from its tips.

      Mr. Ollivander was pleased, he grinned so much. The words he spoke were almost a bubbly as the ones floating around the wand shop. One of the witches shrieked when a particularly large and wet soapy bubble popped right above her head, flattening her yellow hair. Revenge was best served soapy. “11 1/2 inches long, willow with Horned Snake Horn core. Beautifully crafted, may I add? The jewel in the center is actually one from the head of the Horned Snake.”

      Hari was examining the wand, familiarizing himself with its magic and his own. Examining the hilt he found an unusual symbol carved into it; a snake appearing to eat its own tail. Mr. Ollivander saw him examining the carving and spoke up, “Ouroboros symbolism of the serpent; snake or dragon, devouring its own tail symbolizes the cycle of the nature of the universe; matter can neither be created nor destroyed, creation comes out of destruction, life out of death, the Ouroboros eats its own tail to sustain its now life, in an eternal cycle of renewal.” Draco whom actually took Alchemy at Hogwarts understood the concept quite well, and was studiously happy to discover that he too shared a connection with Hari Potter’s wand, even if it was a design choice.  

      Hari went to slide his new wand into his back pocket, when Ollivander cleared his throat. "Perhaps I can suggest an arm or thigh sheath for your wand?" 

      Hari looked down at his wand remembering Mad-eyes warning about a blown up buttocks, before shrugging and smiling sheepishly. 

         As they left, displayed in the window Ollivander’s, three iconic wands proudly sat on display under heavy wards to deter thieves. Connected by a golden cage of light, (Priori Incantatem) was a 13 ½ inch Yew wand with Phoenix feather core, (Lord Voldemort’s) and an 11 inch Holly wand with Phoenix feather core (Hari Potter’s) doing battle. Beneath the two infamous wands was an unspectacular, 10 inch Hawthorn with Unicorn hair core, (Draco Malfoy’s) the wand which helped defeat the Dark Lord.

 ------

          Hari and Draco sped through the streets of London on a black motorbike, dipping and swerving around heavy traffic that would make any Quidditch star proud.  It was not even one o’clock in the afternoon and the two teens had only one destination in mind; lunch. Hari promised Draco excellent food at his favorite Muggle restaurant. Hari was very nervous about bringing Draco Malfoy to his favorite place to eat, because well he was Malfoy after all. He probably would be a prat anywhere he went. So he tried to warn Draco ahead of time, by requesting a few things of him. The first being he didn’t say negative to the waitstaff, secondly he didn’t gawk or give nasty looks to the waitstaff or the customers, and thirdly he requested Draco not, under any circumstances, tell the owner that Hari called him a princess in such a derogatory way. Draco being his old vexing self, said he couldn’t, more like wouldn’t make any promises, because he was visiting a Muggle establishment; after all, what if he got food poisoning? Hari’s response; “You’ll likely get food poisoning if you kept it up.”

         Hari was taking Draco out to lunch at Sheryl’s Place, a popular barbeque restaurant which just so happened to be located within one of London’s notorious gaybourhoods. The area got its reputation from the large LGBTQ+ community and popular gay bar and nightclub that guarded the entrance against homophobic, xenophobic, and racist people like Hari’s own uncle Vernon. Sheryl Mason, the owner and head chef was a rather tall and intimidating black man in full drag, with a gleaming meat cleaver used to deter any negativity towards herself, her staff, customers, or her restaurant. Sheryl didn’t discriminate against anyone, race, gender, or sexual orientation.

       If you looked passed the exterior, the heart of the area, the people, were open and welcoming to everyone. Which is why, Hari felt comfortable surrounded by the strange and weirdly beautiful people who frequented the area; although, Hari had to protest verbosely to a teasing Sheryl that he wasn’t gay each and every time he stepped through the door.

      The last time Hari was here, Sheryl had teasingly said, “Finally stepping outside of that closet you’ve been living in, yeah?” Sheryl accompanied this statement with a big saucy wink. Normally Hari took the ribbing good-naturedly; however, Hari was having a stressful day and any subject remotely relating to Hari living in a closet was a prickly subject. Hari was under immense stress with war on the horizon, feeling guilt over his godfather’s death, and the mounting abuse at home. Added to that statement said in jest, Hari snapped. 

       Balling his hands into fists, accidental magic caused wind to gust through open windows and doors. Hari snarled, “What do you know about living in a closet?” And without further ado, Hari stormed out of place like the fires of Hades were after him. He regretted his ridiculous outburst and the way he left things with the only person he considered a friend in the Muggle world. Hari wanted to kick himself. Sheryl was talking about coming out of the closest, figuratively, as in declaring himself openly gay; _not, you moron_ , realistically living in a closet like he had for the first ten years of his life. A few days after that, Dumbledore came to collect him from Number 4 Privet Drive. The following year Hari, Ron, and Hermione went to hunt Horcruxes. The result, Hari hadn’t set foot inside Sheryl’s Place in almost two years. He hoped that Sheryl was still amiable to him.

     He pulled up on his motorbike, apprehensive about what the reunion would bring. He cut the engine and unclamped Draco’s hands from across his abdomen. Draco needed to dismount first, and he did so on wobbly legs. Taking off the helmet, Draco quickly tried to set his hair back into a neat and sleek blonde tail. Hari just rolled his eyes, slowly swung his leg over the end, set the kickstand, and unbuckled his helmet absently, revealing disheveled black hair that he didn’t bother trying to fix.

      Across the street from Sheryl’s Place, a tiny bottle blonde middle-aged woman frantically got on the phone to ring her longtime friend of fifteen years. “Sheryl! He’s here. Mama, Hari came back!” She squealed into the phone. She was met with silence and then the sound of a dial tone as Sheryl hung up. Rushing to the window, she stood on tiptoes to see over the display, just in time to see the large dark silhouette emerge from the kitchen and stand at the entrance, with cleaver in hand, bulging muscled arms crossed over chest.  

 ***Sheryl’s Flashback***

       Sheryl reigned over her kitchen and restaurant like the Queen she was. With gold eyeliner, gold bangles that hung off ears, neck, and wrist was her signature look, along with white apron, red heels, and gleaming meat cleaver. No one, intimidated Sheryl Mason, unlike her formally named Sean Mason self. Sean Mason grew up in a little backwater town in Louisiana, where the only exciting things happened in town was Friday night high school Lacrosse games, Saturday night bowling, and Sunday morning Church.  Unlike Sheryl who wasn’t afraid of nobody, Sean was afraid of his bible thumping, heavy handed, bigoted, homophobic and abusive father, John Masson.

       Sean Mason was typical popular high school jock, captain of the Lacrosse team, and took his cheerleader girlfriend to prom. He was expected to accept a full ride sports scholarship to Louisiana State, and become a professional athlete. But that wasn’t his dream but his fathers, and that wasn’t what he wanted his life to be. So Sean packed a bag, and with the aid of his supporting baby sister waitressing tips, accepted the culinary scholarship to a University in London, and never even gave his parents a forwarding address. Once in London, he changed his name to Sherryl and never looked back. Now living as the person _she_ always wanted to be, Sheryl Mason opened up her own Barbeque restaurant and thirteen years later, Sheryl’s Place was thriving.  Because she knew rejection well, she made it a purpose to be as open and accepting of everyone, despite their plights in life.

       Sheryl protected her community like the terrifying Mama Bear people call her. Which is why when the owner of the small Clothes and Accessories shop across the street gave her a call, she stood ready with fearsome scowl and cleaver gleaming. Hoodlums had been wondering into their community lately, stealing and vandalizing for the fun of it. There were a lot of nice cafés, shopping centers, and even a museum, if people bothered to look pass the night club and gay bar that is. But lately, business had been a bit slow, and now hoodlums dared to come into her part of town, fowling up the air with their derogatory language, crude and cruel taunts towards her and her people.  

      When Sheryl peered across the street at what her fellow shopkeeper and friend, Wanda, took to be a shoplifter, she just shook her head sadly. The would be hoodlum was no older than sixteen, tall and rail thin, with unruly black tousled hair, and oversized tattered worn out clothes, giving him the impression that a breeze could knock him over at any moment.  Although, Sheryl imagined he looked that he might be desperate enough to steal something, she didn’t believe he didn’t look like the others who vandalized for the sake of vandalizing. She sighed, resigned to the fact that she was about to scare him off just for the peace of mind to her friend. When she opened her mouth and shouted towards the boy, he didn’t run like expected but spun around and faced her, with eyes impossibly big and green behind black round rim and broken spectacles, face pale bruised and gaunt with obvious malnourishment. Sheryl fought down the pity and hollered to the boy.

       That was two years ago, and now Sheryl stood in the exact same position waiting for the slightly older teen, nonetheless skinny with a mop of black unruly hair, to look at her. The tiny bruised teen had wiggled his way into her heart, and when he never returned after that outburst, Sheryl was worried something had happened to him, but she didn’t know where he lived, or how to get in contact with him. The only thing he knew was the tiny underweight and abused teen went to some private school in Scotland. But that wasn’t until September and it had only been July. Maybe his friends had come got him early? That was what she told herself.

       For two years she searched the streets, hoping to see a familiar mop of unruly hair, or a flash of bright emerald green eyes behind rounded glasses. After all this time, her wayward cub returned. She waited patiently for him to lift his head and meet her eyes. He had a lot to answer for, worrying her like that. But when he lifted his head, all that anger fled to be replaced with affectionate relief.

   ***Hari’s Flashback Age 7***

       Returning to Sheryl’s Place brought back a lot of unexpected emotions. The first time Hari visited this side of London, he was secretly in awe of the place and the boldness of the people who walked around in broad daylight. It was the first time that Hari was ever allowed to venture outside Little Whinging, Surrey, so he was in awe of a lot of sights that day. His Uncle Vernon, of whom he and his cousin Dudley were accompanying on a business venture, didn’t feel the same way. In fact, when they passed the neighborhood, they gave that side of the street a large hearth.

       They were forced to take the tube, because inexplicably his uncle’s car paint boiled off and was replaced with tie-dyed colors. Hari insists that he didn’t have anything to do with it; that when he was washing the car it just happened like magic. Uncle Vernon didn’t believe him and got even madder for using the ‘m’ word. Hari still could feel the stinging burn of his belt smacking against bare skin and the empty hollow sensation in his stomach of going without supper. Hari was only seven years old.

       The next day, Uncle Vernon, Dudley, and Hari, took the tube. It was on this day that Hari went anywhere extensive outside suburbia, of Little Whinging, Surrey. In little Whinging, everyone was essentially the same, same tidy houses, same neat little square lawns. Only behind closed doors would an outsider know something was amiss. Inside the walls of Number 4 Private Drive, you wouldn’t know that there weren’t only three people living there but four. There was no sign of Hari Potter in that household; no smiling pictures of him on the walls, no signs of a fourth set of shoes by the door, no room that belonged just to him. Hari hadn’t any new possessions, everything he owned were just old hand-me-down clothes and broken toys from Dudley, and a broom cupboard with cot to sleep on, or be locked away in when company was over.

      It was great to get away from everything he knew and see things unexpected. Even when Vernon was spitting venom at the strange and beautiful people across the street, Hari took no notice to it, having been subject to the verbal abuse for seven years now. “Don’t let me ever catch you over here, you hear me. Especially you Freak, this place just breeds freakiness and weirdo’s like you. Homo’s the lot of them. I’ll have you out by your ear before you could even say homosexual, boy.” Uncle Vernon had often gone on these rants that to a seven year old brain had no idea what he was talking about. “Unnatural if you ask me. The downfall of civilization, the Book of Genesis talks about them. You know what those cities are called, don’t you?”

       “Los Vegas?” Hari asked not really understanding the discussion, he often daydreamed in Church forced to go to keep up appearances. It was the one time Hari was actually allowed to wear an outfit that fit him. But Hari had heard the city in America referred to as Sin City by the older boys at his school. That question earned him a cuff on the back of his head.

       “San Francisco?” Dudley asked, referring to yet another city in America with a high LGBTQ community. Instead of a cuff to the back of the head that earned him a ruffling of the blond hair on Dudley’s head.

      “No.” Vernon growled down almost affectionately to his already overweight son. “I am talking about the unholy, unnatural Sodomites, homosexuals who caused the destruction of the Holy cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, of course. God created one man and one woman, to procreate, and build a civilized world…” Hari stopped listening at this point to fascinated with the look of the even for Hari at the young age of seven, what he thought as of “weird but beautiful people” across the street, some wearing high heels, some wearing fishnets, and others wearing eyeliner and other makeup that he had only seen women wear before. If only women were supposed to wear clothes and makeup like that, even though Aunt Petunia called these women trollops, whatever that means, then certainly men wearing the same must be “weird, freakish, and unnatural” as his Uncle Vernon said. Hari certainly hated being called that by his relatives so he would stay clear.

 ***Hari’s Flashback Age 15 with some Sheryl’s POV***

      And he did, until the summer before Sixth Year. Needing a place to hide while fleeing from his cousin and his gang of friends that liked to beat on their favorite punching bag, Hari went to the one area where he knew Dudley would be caught dead seen near, or else faces his father’s wrath. Hari was, of course, forbidden to go to this particular area as well. Naturally, this meant it was the perfect place to escape the Dursley’s and the war. The weeks before Dumbledore collected him from the Dursley’s he found solace roaming these streets. 

       It was on one of these days that Hari first met Sheryl. He was browsing the shop fronts and wasting time before he had to be back at the Dursley’s. The voice that hollered at him from across the street was a loud baritone pitched a tad unnaturally higher on a male voice. “Now darling I know you are not looking stealing anything are you?”

        Hari had spun around fast, but didn’t run. He didn’t want to look like he was guilty. He looked down at his clothes. Yes he looked like he was street rat. Then he looked up at the person who signaled him out. It was a woman, or rather a man dressed like a woman. “Er no, sir…I mean ma’am. I’m sorry. I mean no disrespect.”

       The eyes of the accuser softened in a warm smile under gold eyeshadow and heavy black eyelashes. Sheryl made up her mind on the spot.  “No need to apologize sugar, a nice respectable young man like you wouldn’t even think about stealing. I am the one to apologize; I should know better not to judge.” Hari blushed, nodded his head, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his arm. They were still bruised from the Battle of the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic.

        The stranger featured softened even more, eyes turning sympathetic. _There must be trouble at home. Poor lamb_ , sweet and innocent, just waiting for some wolf to gobble him up. “You hungry, sugar? I’ll fix you up something real nice” Hari’s stomached took that moment to growl so loud that the shopkeeper hiding behind a rack of clothes concerned for her merchandise, laughed giving away her hiding place. Hari jumped and twirled not expecting the sound and not have seen the tiny woman.

       “Hell Sheryl! From the sound of the boy’s stomach he would be honored to sample your fine B.B.Q, which you have never tasted the likes before.” Hari blushed. He actually got accustomed to eating burnt food that it had become an acquired taste of his. He loved the smoky taste of barbeque brought out, and from the smell of it, the restaurant catered directly to his tastes; at least when it came to food. 

      “I don’t have any money on me ma’am, but thank you.” Hari tried to humbly decline the request. It was true he didn’t carry Muggle money on him or else the Dursley’s would demand where the money came from and try to steal it.  

       “Don’t say nonsense, boy!”  Hari winced. He knew that the tall black man in drag didn’t mean anything by calling him boy. It’s simply the fact that men in his life have the habit as using it derogatory or dismissive manor, as if his age meant adults had the right to keep vital information from him. Albus Dumbledore used it, and it made Hari feel the Headmaster was using fake compassion and empathy to manipulate him, and of course his Uncle Vernon used it to express his authority over Hari. Nonetheless, Hari shuddered at being addressed as boy. “Not knowing how to address a fine specimen like myself can be forgiven, turning down free food, now that’s an insult to my cooking and me. My name is Sheryl, you can call me that or Mama, on the account I protect this area like a mama bear defending her cub.”

       “I…I really couldn’t… ma’am. Take handouts, that is. I…ah…could work for it…” The person he now took to be named Sheryl, threw up her hands, rolled her eyes, and shook her head, all at once, her gold bangles on her wrists clanging together. Whoever hurt this boy, at least didn’t stomp out his manners and work ethic. She thought.

       “Fine” Sherryl mumbled under her breath. When Hari said, ‘sorry, I didn’t catch that,’ she waved the boy over to her side. “I said, how about this. My place has a meal challenge. If you can eat the whole lot of it, no wasting food at my place, it’s free. If you can’t finish, you take it home for leftovers, and you as a special offer get to work off the price of the meal instead of paying, by working three hours in the back, sound like a deal?” She finished with that very tempting offer.

      Sheryl saw Wanda, the woman who called him to scare away the poor boy in the first place, snooping from her hiding place and subtly shook her head in warning. Wanda was kind if a bit misguided in many of her ways. She’s open her mouth to spread gossip in a minute, not understanding when a line had been crossed, then act confused and hurt when confronted for it. Wanda certainly would have opened her big trap and blurted out, that indeed Sheryl’s Place hadn’t any eaters challenge, and that Sheryl just couldn’t turn a poor starved and beaten boy away from her doorstep hungry. Sheryl was sympathetic to the boy’s plight, being far more insightful than she ought to be, as she was that boy at one point in her life, when she first moved to London and struggled to make by. 

        For once Wanda kept her trap shut and didn’t give away Sheryl’s motives for feeding the boy in ragged clothes. She finally disappeared behind a curtained door. When Sheryl knew she was gone from sight, and there was no one suspicious along the street, she waved Hari inside. Her first instinct was a place by the door, seeing as he had stiffened when entering the cramped space, thinking he’d likely flee at any moment. But no, the boy took a few more hesitant steps inside before glancing up and over his shoulder at Sheryl in question. “Wherever you’d like, Sugar.” Sheryl said. “The sign says seat yourself.” Hari nodded and agilely scooted around patrons and cramped tables to a small table in the back, allowing for him to see the rest of the room and out the window to the street, yet a young potted fern hid him from view from most. 

       Sheryl didn’t bat a fake and heavily mascaraed eyelash at the unique seating arrangement and just accepted it, although there were about five empty tables between him and the nearest patron. She went on explaining the rules of the challenge that she just made it up on the spot. “The rules are simple; order two large entrees,“ Sheryl winked suggested at the now blushing boy, “three large side dishes, and a large beverage. Non-alcoholic for you. Finish the entire meal in one sitting, the meal is free and your name is placed on the Hall of Fame. Don’t finish the meal, you pay, or in this case you work off your meal in the kitchen, and get to take the leftovers home. Deal?” Sheryl asked, holding out her dark, golden bangle clad hand to Hari to shake. Hari took the offered hand.

      Hari ordered the barbeque chicken legs, tri-tip, baked beans, cornbread, collard greens, and a Coke. Sheryl deciding to take a break from the kitchen after serving up the boy’s order, she simply stood behind the counter bar, hand to cheek, watching the boy eat, and waving off would be meal orders. It was fascinating to watch the boy eat. He wasn’t messy, but ate in tidy, small, quick bites. The large meal that could have easily fed two to three people disappeared down the boy’s gullet. When the boy seamed to realize that he had a drink in front of him, he stopped to take small sips, careful not to inhale the beverage. That was when Sheryl asked his name.

       Hari paused for a long second; not wanting to give away his name, as if saying his name would bring misfortune. Shaking his head at his paranoia, he wiped his face from barbecue sauce and meat juices, before he responded. “Harry” He responded before he put his black mop of a head down to continue eating. It wasn’t a timed meal and as long as he didn’t leave the table unnecessarily, he could take his time. 

     “Well, Harry, welcome to my place. Enjoy the food. I hope you’ll like the sauce.” Sheryl responded, jerking her chin in the direction of the tiny dipping platter with a couple sauce options.

      From then on, Hari visited Sheryl’s Place as often as possible to escape the Dursley’s and enjoy a proper meal, in which he paid for in labor by cleaning dishes in the back and humming happy tunes for three to four hours. He vowed that one day he’d pay Sheryl back her compassion. He told Sheryl a little about himself, how he went to a boarding school in Scotland, paid for by some money left to him when his parents died. He stayed clear of talking about the wizarding world, filling in the blanks as best he could, and easily dodged questions he didn’t want to answer, like where the bruises came from, and where he lived. But he talked about his friends, and his least favorite class, 'Chemistry', and how he wanted to join 'law enforcement'. 

      If Sheryl had to guess, she would have pegged the boy as asexual. He never took interest in any of the unique patrons that frequented her place, and never spoke of any past relationships. It could stem from the obvious low self-esteem issue that he had. Many patrons flocked to the restaurant to get a glimpse of the often brooding teen with killer eyes. Those emerald eyes often slayed many hearts. Not that Hari noticed.  Sheryl had to nurse a few broken hearts in Hari’s wake.

       Hari often waved off unwanted advances, taking none of them serious. In the wizarding world many people flocked to his side because he was famous, but had nothing to offer in the Muggle world.  So he took none of the advances seriously, figuring they were either teasing him or using him as practice to flirt. What Hari couldn’t see about himself was that he was an enigma to hopeful suitors; silent and withdrawn at times, but when drawn out of his shell was witty, and his laugh always came out a bit startled, as if surprised that he could laugh.

       Hari didn’t mind the new company he kept, Sheryl like the mama bear she claimed to be, kept the predators at bay. Every now and then she let a few harmless flirts try their luck at catching the teen’s eye. The boy clearly wasn't interested, but still she teased, and he waved the comments off good naturedly, until the day he didn’t and never returned.

       ***End of Flashback’s***

        Draco could see that Hari was apprehensive about being outside the restaurant, and his nervousness was making him nervous. Hari was so happy to show Draco this place earlier. _What changed?_ Draco finally took a broader sweep of the area, and tried his hardest to keep his face stoic.

       Did Hari just take me to the gay district? He was astounded. First, Draco would never have dared set foot anywhere near the flamboyant neighborhood, despite himself being gay. His father would really have killed him first than admit his precious heir had no interest in the female persuasion. Now, the green eyed, raven haired boy next to him was another story. Second, Draco thought Hari was straight. But he brought him here, so…

       Shaking himself out of his musing, he swung his legs off the motorbike, careful not to hit Hari on the dismount to stand on wobbly legs. His hair was a mess underneath the helmet. Quickly he tried to straighten the frizzy strands of platinum hair. Draco really didn’t know what to expect as Hari only said don’t insult the waitstaff. So he waited for Hari to gather his courage.

      A tall imposing black figure emerged to stand guard at the entrance with a sign over head that simply read, Sheryl’s Place. The street was clean, the windows shined, and the food smelled delicious. Draco was taller than he was before he came into his dragon inheritance, but the person guarding the door was a head taller than he, and had about a hundred pounds on him. His human self might have been intimidated by the bulk and even the cleaver in hand, but his alpha just snorted _.  I can take him_ echoed through his head.

       Draco tried to reign in his possessive nature, but as a juvenile alpha it was a constant battle. Draco set his jaw and tried to take calming breath. He had to remind his alpha; _no, this was not a date, they are not courting, Hari is not his_. No matter how he tried to rationalize to his alpha self that mate-claiming a minor was not only illegal but impossible with the ice-blood, there was still that voice in the back of his mind, his dragon self, his alpha self, whispering _, not yet_.

         It wasn’t long before Hari took notice of the lone figure blocking the entrance. If possible Hari’s shoulders tensed even more. Draco watched a he physically tried to relax his muscles before stepping away from the motorbike and out of Draco’s reach entirely to approach the bulking form. Something his alpha clearly did not appreciate.

       “Sheryl…”

        “You have a lot of explaining to do, young man. Disappearing like that on us. You had the girls and I worried something had happened to yeah, when you never returned.”

        “Sheryl…Mama Bear, I…” Hari paused flustered in his apologies when Sheryl swept him up in a massive bear hug. 

        “None of that, cub.” She set Hari back down on his feet again, glancing over his shoulder at Draco. With a sly grin, she continued, “I’ll forgive you if you introduce me to your man, here.” She crackled at Hari’s horrified expression.

       _This was Sheryl?_ Draco was not expecting this at all. Hari did not give him any warnings, only said "don’t insult the waitstaff". Now he knew. The way Hari was behaving earlier, Draco was sure that there was going to be some type of altercation. Draco was secretly disappointed that he would not have the chance to step up and protect his mate. _Not his mate_. Draco argued internally.

       Sheryl was loud, very loud. Draco couldn’t help but overhear what she said, and a dozen other patrons turned to face them, no doubt overheard the conversation as well. Draco fought down a blush and tried to act nonchalant, leaning back on the bike with arms crossed over chest, when the two turned to face him fully. His Malfoy mask was firmly in place, his facial featured carefully blank.  Hari was unsuccessful in doing the same. Clearly mortified, he squawked out a protest. 

     “Sheryl, no!” Hari shouted mortified. “It’s…it’s not like that. He’s just a…a friend.” Draco winced on the inside at being firmly placed in the friend zone.

       “Mm-huh, sugar whatever you say. You’ve never brought home such a delicious looking friend home to us before or any friend for that matter.” Sheryl winked a gold eyeliner eye at him over the top of Hari’s shoulder.

       Hari’s face was a tomato red. He had nearly forgotten how outspoken Sheryl could be. Being a prominent member of the resident gay neighborhood, she would often tease Hari about his sexual preferences and experiences. Hari never spoke of is one failed relationship with Cho Chang and didn’t intend to talk about his uncertain future relationship with Ginny Weasley. The truth of the matter was, Hari hadn’t given Ginny a second thought since returning home from the war. Dating was the last thing on his mind with the funerals, the trials, settling everyone into Grimmauld Place with him.  Now he wasn’t even sure if he was even ready to get back together with her.

      Sheryl panned her gaze over Draco’s carefully groomed hair, well-manicured nails, and stylized clothes, and her gaydar pinged instantly. Shaking her head she tutted. “You certainly know how to attract them sugar. Let’s go inside. I can have the Harry Potter Special prepared for you in no time, the special, or your blonde man here can pay. He looks like he’s rolling in cash.”

       “I will be treating today; Draco’s wallet is currently empty.” This topic galled Draco to no end. He would love nothing more than to lavish Hari with expensive gifts, fine clothing, and affection. His alpha wanting to spoil his sought after mate.

      Sheryl tilted her head a bit and tapped a finger to her scarlet lips in thought. Despite the haughty exterior, she knew what it was like to have disapproving parents. 

      “Disowned?” She asked Draco taking a guess that he might have been so if he came out to his parents. Well-to-do Heterosexual father’s would rather disinherit their children and save face in the community rather than admit they have a homosexual child. She would no. When she graduated culinary school and opened Sheryl’s Place, she sent a letter to her baby sister with an airline ticket. It wasn’t her sister who came. John Mason was furious that he left the United States. After finding out his whereabouts, he hopped on the first redeye flight to confront his wayward son. Finding his prodigal son in drag was not what he expected. Her father cursed her out, calling her all kinds of derogatory and homophobic words, and finally ended with “You are not a child of God, and neither are you mine.” Sheryl expected the response, but back then she wasn’t as confident in herself as she is now. It hurt.

        Draco just stuffed his hands in his slack’s pockets and shrugged in answer.  Technically; no, he wasn’t disinherited, but he didn’t have access to Muggle money either. Sheryl accepted the shrug as a yes and let the topic go.

      “I suppose you are going to be as tight lipped as ever, about where you’ve been these last two years.” She said to Hari. When she didn’t get a response, she stepped out of the way.

     “Eater challenge still stands. You finish the meal, it’s free.” Sheryl said in finality.  

       “Lovely, but I don’t think Draco can eat as much as I.” Draco was stumped. How could a restaurant stay in business if it gave away its food for free?

     Sheryl saw the brief slip of the mask and answered the unspoken question. “These here are American portion sizes. The challenge is two large entrees, three large sides, and a large beverage. You think you’re skinny frame can eat all that in around an hour?” Draco’s face paled trying to imagine the amount of food. How can one stomach take all that food _? Isn’t your stomach only able to hold sixteen ounces or something?_

      Sheryl laughed emphatically as she waved them in to get seated. She missed her cub, and she was glad he wasn’t so alone anymore.

      Draco was only half listening as they made their way to their seats. Sheryl shooed a couple out of a little alcove table that allowed nearly 360 degree view of the restaurant. Rather than sitting across from Hari with his back to the room, he opted to sit next to him instead. It was a tight fit and Hari gave Draco a strange look before turning back to Sheryl to continue the argument.

        “Sheryl, you cannot expect him to eat so much food. If he doesn’t want the special, I’ll pay for his meal…”

     Draco took a quick assessment of the barbeque restaurant. Sheryl’s Place was a lot more spacious than he initially thought. There was a bar with open kitchen where three staff was busy cooking over open flames, their backs to the customers. A dozen or so square tables were spread out evenly, with a few tables lining the windows. Hari and Draco were in the only alcove seating, a tight fit sitting side by side, but Draco felt safer facing the room and street at large. Sentiments that Hari obvious felt, because he didn’t move himself, or demand Draco do so instead. It was so much different than Draco have ever visited before. He decided he liked it.     

       “Ha, Potter you have a special named after you, you must be a regular then.” Turning to Sheryl, trying to spare Hari the pointless argument, “Ma’am, I’ll have the Harry Potter Special, please.”

       Taking that as the end of the argument, she jotted down the order and lumbered away gracefully on stiletto heels. Draco wasn’t disturbed by the patrons; he was simply baffled by how open these people were about their sexuality. The wizarding world was far too conservative and he would never have dared frequent this type of establishment on his own, homosexual or not. Draco heard whispers, of course, from some of the Dark Lord’s followers, of private Halls deep within Knockturn Alley, where the affluent could sate their darker sexual desires in relevant secrecy. It was a darker secret that even Draco didn’t want to know or seek ‘pleasure’ from.

      “Dray!” Hari hissed startling him out of his darker memories from the Manor. “You can’t seriously want to eat…” Draco turned to Hari his own grey eyes steely.

       “I’ve already accepted the challenge. You’re paying, right?” When Hari nodded, he continued “Then what is the problem?”

        “There’s no problem, I’m paying.” Hari said, almost captivated by the direct stare Draco was giving him. Draco had never looked at him like that before. It was a look he imagined the Marauder’s gave each other; friendly challenges, dares, and mischievous fun.  Draco’s never directed that look at him before. He’s looked at him with loathing hatred, disgust, mockery, even pain and fear, but never as friends. It was new. Hari felt his own competitive nature rising. He knew he could finish within an hour, but he was curious about how far he could push Draco into eating. 

      Draco was the first to break eye contact. He fidgeted a bit jostling Hari's left arm in the process. Once more, Hari remained quiet on how close Draco was.

      "So, Hari...how do you like your new wand?" Draco said trying for friendly conversation to break the heavy silence.

      Hari's face broke out in a toothy crooked smile. "I like it a lot. I was beginning to wonder if a wand would ever choose me like my first time in Ollivander’s."

     "What do you mean? You're a wizard..."

       "I didn't know I was one until Hagrid came and got me on my eleventh birthday. My Muggle relatives never told me my mum was a witch. I knew nothing about my parents at all. Up until the moment I was sorted into Gryffindor I believed at any moment someone would say there had been some kind of mistake and take my wand away."

        That explains why Hari was friendly with Hagrid the half-giant, and debunks the theory he was raised by a giant colony in Mesopotamia. He was just about to open his mouth to ask another question when Hari asked one of his own.

      "What was Ollivander saying about your wand core?"

         Draco struggled with himself. Clause 74, of the Statutes of Secrecy was enforced by _Taboo_ , a handy hereditary spell that in combination with a strong _Confundus charm_ , which prevents Wizardkind from discussing or revealing their physical manifestation of their creatures’ inheritance to Muggles or outside the family bloodline or legal guardianship rights. If his aunt was on the Sanctioned Muggle list, his aunt could have informed him. But if she never told Hari that he was a wizard then it was highly unlikely she also told him he may not be entirely wizard either. This left it to his Godfather, Sirius Black, to inform him of that fact before his eighteenth birthday.

      _Bloody Buggering Hell!_ Obviously that didn’t happen, which leaves Draco in a bind. He couldn’t go through with a proper courtship without Hari knowing of Draco’s dragon inheritance. As part of a hundred year old tradition, _Defendat, quod tuum est, Quia mundus non est tibi, si non defendat,_ meaning “Protect what is yours, because it does not belong to you if you cannot protect it.”

      However, Hari clearly didn't know about the creature inheritance, which means he would not be able to enter into a proper courtship until Hari's eighteenth birthday. If he presents as anything other than beta, telling him would be a moot point, because then his own creatures’ blood would reveal itself. Or if he is simply beta, by that point, the _Confundus charm_ will have worn off and Draco could show him.  

      This also means he would be courting a minor, and proper etiquette tells him he needs to ask permission from a parent or guardian. At this point Draco was just going around in circles. _Hari is a minor, he hasn’t yet turned eighteen, and his only guardians are hateful Muggles, and a deceased godfather with only a portrait to…_

      _Unless…_

        "Drrraay!" Hari's voice brought him out of his silent musing. He still hadn't answered Hari's question.

       "Ollivander told me that my wand core came from the same Dragon as my mother's. Our wand cores are brothers." _Taboo_  forced to edit out that their cores were donated by an ancestor of theirs, an actual dragon.

       "Oh what a coincidence, Ollivander said my mum's core and I are brothers as well."

           That statement clicked with another revealed by Ollivander. 'I've wondered if it would be the same.'

         There was just too many parallels with Draco and Narcissa wand cores being brothers and Hari's and Lily's wand being brothers.  

      But Hari's mother was Muggle-born, which meant that she was also beta. If Hari were to present as anything other than beta, it would come from his father's creature's blood, a Herne; half man, half Cervidae,  _Wouldn’t it?_  

      “Order up, my dears!” Sheryl startled the two who were immersed so much in their conversation that they didn’t notice the slow passing of time when the food arrived. Sheryl laid plater after plater on the tiny table until it was threatened to burst.

         Draco paled. There was just so much food. He looked over at Hari, who looked now at him with laughing eyes. “Come on Dray, dig in, you don’t want me to pay for all that food do you? Draco tried to dig in with as much gusto as Hari but soon fell behind Hari’s quick small bites.

       He finally seceded.  He was surprised that there were no feelings of bitterness at losing to Hari. No, he settled back, his alpha content to just watch Hari enjoy his food.

     Sheryl was also watching Hari, Draco, and how they interacted with each other. She found it very interesting. Draco was clearly infatuated with the boy. His body language screamed it. The way his legs angled towards Hari when they talked, the way he casually brushed his fingers against Hari’s when reaching for food, the way he sought his attention, and even the way he mirrored Hari’s movement from the tilt of his head, or the way he held his fork, or running his hands through his hair. It was endearing.

        But, Sheryl found herself worrying for the young blonde. She always assumed Hari was asexual, if that was the case then Draco was setting himself up for heartbreak. She had to know his intentions. 

        Sheryl went with her gut feeling she asked in stilted French. “Parlez-vous Français?” Do you speak French? It took Draco a moment to pull himself away from watching Hari, then another to realize that Sheryl was trying to communicate with him in French.

       “Votre français est atroce.” Your French is atrocious. Draco responded with the snobbery that only the French can possess.

        Sheryl only laughed at that. “Pardonnez-moi que mon français ne soit pas ma langue maternelle. J'ai grandi en Louisiane et la plupart de mes études ont été faites au genou de ma mère, qui ne parlait que le français créole. J'ai cherché à améliorer mon discours depuis mon arrivée ici." Forgive me for my French not being my native language. I grew up in Louisiana and most of my education was thought on the knee of my mother, who spoke only creole French. I have sought to improve my speech ever since coming here.

       “Vous devriez renvoyer votre tuteur privé, ils vous ont fait du tort ‘’ You should fire your private tutor, they have done you a disservice.

      “Eh bien, nous communiquons. Sommes nous pas?“ Well, we are communicating are we not?

     “Oui, nous sommes.“  Yes, we are. Taking a sip of his coke which has been watered down by melted ice. He winced at the flat sweet taste.

      “Vous savez que Hari n'est pas ... “ You know that Hari is not…,

      “Gay? je suis conscient.” Gay? I am aware.

      “Vous arrogant fils de pute! Vous savez et pourtant vous …” You cocky son of a bitch. You know and yet you…

      “Gentiment, madame de ne pas insulter ma mère à nouveau. Je connais Hari depuis l'âge de onze ans. Je sais mieux que la plupart que son attention n'est pas acquise par la force. Je ne le forcerai pas si c'est ce que tu veux dire. “ Kindly madam, do not insult my mother again. I have known Hari since he was eleven years old. I know better than most that his attention is not gained by force. I won’t force him if that is what you mean.

       “Je devais connaître vos intentions. Hari a besoin de quelqu'un pour l'aimer.” I had to know your intentions. Hari needs someone to love him.

       “Eh bien, maintenant tu sais. Maintenant, courtiser le git têtu.’’ Well now you know. Now, to woo the stubborn git.  

         Sheryl laughed, the tension had left her shoulders. Slapping Draco on the back, she exclaimed, “Hari cub, I like your man. When you are both of age come share a pint with me. First round’s on me.”

    “Here-here” Rang out among the patrons.

 ------

         Hari of course finished his entire meal and ate his meal for free. Draco didn’t even make a large dent in his food, and had the waitstaff box the leftovers. A deal's a deal. Hari went to pay for the meal, handing over his shiny black credit card. Sheryl took over the till, accepted the rectangular plastic to complete the purchase. It was not until she was handing it back that she noticed the spelling of his name. For a moment she stood there with arm raised across the counter to hand Hari his card back, stumped.

      _Surely, Hari would have told me if his name was spelled any different._ Shrugging off the discomfort of discovering she had the poor boys named spelled wrong on her menu for two years now. To remedy the situation, she quickly hopped nimbly on a stool in stiletto shoes, to change the spelling. At the bar, one customer shouted down the line. “Hey Mama? Did that skinny blonde beat the challenge, that why you changing the name. Damn. I had my money on Hari winning.”

      “No Bernard, Hari won. Just discovered I’ve been spelling the cubs name wrong all this time, is all.” Sheryl called back over her broad muscular shoulders, not bother turning away from the task.

        Hari was currently in the back, scrubbing a pan manually, as usual, wizards are not aloud to do magic in front of Muggles. Draco took full advantage of Hari’s agreement, and stayed behind the counter to enjoy the view. Sheryl still on her ‘break’ as she called it, for the past four hours, was seated beside Draco facing out towards the restaurant to keep an eye on her customers, while catching up on her cub and his would be suitor.

        Draco, nearly overwhelmed with affectionate appreciation for the raven haired, emerald eyed boy scrubbing pans, and chatting with a tiny black haired woman with purple streaks through her hair, and whispered, “He's Perfect” His dragon hummed in agreement. 

        Sherryl overheard the statement not meant for anyone else ears, and responded. “ I am glad he has someone who sees it. Now make him see it. Or I’ll cut off your balls and feed it to you with marinara like Italian meatballs.”

        Draco stammered out a “Yes, Mama.”

       Sheryl patted Draco’s cheek with a pleased smile. “Yes, you’ll be good for him.”

       Draco looked over the counter at Hari; laughing and scrubbing dishes. Draco couldn’t help but have a sudden feeling of apprehension. Of all Draco's bravado, it was a very real possibility that Hari would reject him. All he could think of was how he hoped Hari would give him a chance to prove that they could be good together. Because, Draco knew that by himself, he was no good.   

         _That's all that I hope for..._


	10. The World Would Never Be The Same Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drunken Confessions!  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wonderful World of Harry Potter, the characters and images all belongs to the amazing mind of J.K. Rowling and no copyright infringement was intended in the creation of this fan fiction.

       Draco wanted to hold onto this feeling forever; the exhilaration of flying through the streets of Muggle London, Hari wrapped in his arms, urging the motorbike to go faster, as if they were racing the sun home. Grimmauld Place was home for him now, not because that was his mother’s ancestral home, but because that was where Hari was. It was naïve, and foolish for him to believe that wherever Hari was that was where he belonged. He didn’t know if it was his alpha, or if it stemmed from his ever growing feelings, it just felt right. He scooted closer on the seat, so that his body was flush with Hari, from knee, thigh, hip, and sternum; they were meshed together. His arms tightened around the teen and if Hari noticed or cared he gave no indication as he drove the bike as naturally through the streets as he did flying through the air on a broom. For the time being they were one, and there were no hostility between them, old rivalry, nor past mistakes. When he let Hari go, would that be the last time?

      Draco felt an inner turmoil. Once he let Hari go, they would return to two separate beings, and all the uncertainty would still remain. _Has Hari really looked past their old ferocity to start anew? Were they considered friends now? Would Hari be interested in starting something more?_

Hari gently came to a stop just inside the barrier. Shutting the engine down, Hari turned to Draco over his shoulder. “You’ve been quiet the whole trip here, Dray.  Did I drive too fast and you are feeling nauseous? Shite, you ate a lot today, and I was inconsiderate. I’m sorry.”

       Draco dismounted removing his helmet and let his hair escape its tie and fly loose around his face in the late evening sun. Draco wanted to confess, but it was a very real possibility that Hari would reject him. Draco was scared of that possibility, because if he confessed and was rejected he would be forced to leave. His alpha roared in his mind, _NO!_  

       Draco’s alpha was still a juvenile, he was just recently presented, and he wouldn’t be able to control his base urges. If he was rejected he would leave on his own accord. His alpha would be too possessive, too uncontrollable to stay near him and not inadvertently hurt him. If Hari really only wanted to be his friend, could Draco be satisfied with just being near him? Or, he could risk rejection and confess.  

       Then again, how much suffering could he take before he lashed out anyway and left? He could just chop it up to them having too much bad blood between them to live healthily together. Draco wasn’t worried about his mother being forced to leave in that case. Hari said that they were there because Teddy needed family, that wouldn’t change with him gone.

      The expression on Hari’s face changed to worry. “Draco, are you unwell?” Draco realized he hadn’t answered. Was this the right moment to confess all? _Draco Malfoy, you are a right coward._

     “No, I’ve just been lost in thought. Hari how…how do you feel about me…ah..ah…I mean, are we friends?” _Coward._ Hari looked at Draco in consideration, then out at the garden, one hand wrapped around his elbow in a hug, the other letting go of the handlebar to dangle at his side.

     “Draco… When I…when I learned what I needed to do to end the war, I wasn’t scared, I was relieved.  I didn’t expect to come out of the war alive. I wanted to die, and was willing to die. My life hasn’t been easy, Draco despite what you or Snape believed. No, my life has been full of one mistake after another, miserable and hard. All my life I had to fight for something, anything to hold onto. The running mantra in my head had been survive; survive the year, survive the war, hell most of the time it was survive the day or even the hour, minute, or second.”

      Draco heart dropped and he wanted to scream out. D _on’t say that. Knowing you were alive made my life fuller. It gave me hope for my own future. Hope for the future of the whole wizarding world. You don’t see how many people actually want and needed you to survive._

       Hari appeared to struggle with something. “I want more out of life, than to struggle to survive. Maybe I gave up once, or maybe I just thought that was what I wanted, because someone said it was for the greater good.” Turning away from Draco, Hari kicked the kickstand up and rolled the bike into the shed. Saying all the while, “But you know something, Draco Malfoy? The world doesn’t end when we do. The same life problems still exist. We just wouldn’t be a part of the solution. I am no longer going to sacrifice my happiness for others. I am going to find it; my happiness, my light, my warmth, and I will hold onto it, by God or whatever deity you choose to pray to. And that sounds a bit selfish, yeah? But I gave, and they took, and they want more. Well fuck them.”

     Draco was shocked at The Hari Potter, the Saint Potter, and the Do-No-Wrong Golden Boy’s profanity.  

     “We can’t ever hope to be what the world expects for us. It only leads to disappointment and heartbreak. So yeah, I guess…well I…” Hari rubbed the back of his head enduringly. “When I offered you my hand, I was offering you a truce. I was willing to forgive you, to make amends, and start anew. From here on out, it is our choices that determine what we are to each other.”

      _More than friends! I want to be more than friends._

      Hari continued oblivious to the silent cry in Draco’s heart. “When I look at you, I see that same struggle within you to survive. We just went about pursuing it differently. I wanted to live, you wanted to not die.” Draco didn’t see the difference at first, but then suddenly he did. Hari said so himself, he _fought to survive the war, the year, the day, hour, minute, and second_. He wanted to stop surviving and live not just in the moment, but in the future, he wanted to _live._ But Draco, even before the war, he never thought too deeply about his future, everything he owned he had handed to him on a silver platter. It wasn’t until he had it all taken away from him that he realized what that struggle meant. Until that moment, he had been too arrogant and selfish to realize that in trying to survive the moment, he never looked towards the future, or the consequences his actions did in the present would affect the lives of so many others.  

       Draco felt so guilty for his involvement in the war. He didn’t know how to forgive himself, let alone know how to go about making amends. But here, frustrating enough was his Saint Potter, forgiving him. Draco was frustrated beyond belief. He didn’t deserve forgiveness. Draco did horrible things during the war for his own survival, wasn’t he accountable for any of it?

 “It’s not easy to forget…you know…but it’s a whole lot more freeing to forgive.”

      “After all the things I’ve done…I don’t deserve…Why?!” Draco’s words lodged in his throat. _Why forgive me? Why did you save me back in the Room of Hidden Things? Why not let me burn?_

Suddenly Hari had enough, “Why do you look a gift horse in the mouth?”

     “Potter, that makes no sense at all. You can’t just accept any random horse, you don’t know if its diseased, not properly broken, the beast might be more trouble than it's worth.” Draco said exasperated.

     Just like that Hari’s frustration was over. Malfoy was still Malfoy; he wasn’t lost to deeply in his guilt as Hari was not too long ago. The world seemed to straighten itself out. Hari laughed light heartened.  

       Waving Draco to follow, he turned back to the garden, with Draco following just a step behind. Hari bent down and began fussing with a plant, a rose bush, even Draco knew that one. He took out his Willow wand with Horned Snake horn core, and conjured a pair of scissors. He began cutting off the heads of the roses.

      “You know for all our differences we are the same in many ways.” Hari said conversationally. Draco watched perplexed. _Why not use magic or order a house-elf to do it._

      “How so?” He inquired with a slight tilt of the head.

       “Like you had your mother, I had one family member who I loved. I had Sirius, but he was taken from me. Then I had Teddy, and I nearly gave him up. If I hadn’t gone to visit Andromeda when I did, who knows what would have happened to them.”

     “You didn’t die, Hari.” Draco said. _Thanks Circe._ “You lived and are still alive. And Teddy and my aunt are extremely grateful for that.” _And I._  

      “It still doesn’t lessen the guilt… I thought…I thought that with Teddy, I could create a family… like how Sirius wanted to do with me.”

    He moved onto another bush and began cutting the heads of those as well. “Yeah, but then I realized he had a family of his own. He had Andromeda, and in extension you and Narcissa. I couldn’t take Teddy…That would be cruel. Andromeda has grandparental rights. Doesn’t everyone deserve family of their own?”

      Hari stood up and guided Draco to yet another rose bush that evidently, Hari was going to cut at with his little scissors. “Come look at this. See these tiny roses here?” Draco rolled his eyes with arms across his chest. _How could he not. There was a whole section of roses before them_.  Hari either didn’t see the eye-roll or chose to ignore it. “They need sunlight, and water, and nurturing care to survive. You see, in order for them to thrive and produce more buds, the old dried up ones have to be cut away.”

       Hari stood up and looked around the garden. Yes, it was magical. It was like a little oasis within a city of concrete. Here within the protection of charmed walls, the Muggle world didn’t exist and the wizarding war never touched it. It was his perfect sanctuary.

     Taking Draco’s hand between his own, he placed the scissors between thumb and forefingers and guided the first snip. “You have to cut away the old to make room for the new. It doesn’t damage the plant in its entirety. The roots are still intact. Your still you, you’ve just grown, matured, not changed, just flourished. Even when the petals change color from cross pollination they are still the same tiny flowers, pretty and sweet smelling. They rely on nutrients from the sun, soil and even water. Nature provides all of this, but sometimes… _aguamenti…_ they need some nurturing assistance.” Hari snipped off a few wilted leaves at the same time.

     With an almost shy shrug of the shoulders, Hari tried for casual, “So yeah…ah…if you want to be friends…I guess we could…uh…try at being friends.”

    “Potter, you…” _I want to kiss you, consume you entirely._ “I…I cannot believe you compared me to a rose.” That statement was accompanies with an _aguamenti charm_ of his own that produced a jet of water that hit Hari right in the face.

     Hari stood for only a moment, stunned silent, wet hair dripping into startled wide green eyes, and glasses barely perched on his nose. Draco waited a heartbeat, then another, thinking perhaps he took the jest too far and Hari might be angry, then…

      With a mighty roar of laughter from Hari the water games were on. They chased each other in the back garden, sun finally falling behind the wall to cast them in twilight shadow. They were positively soaked to the bone, muddy from a few slips on wet grass, and sides ached from laughter. Draco lifted Hari to dangle horizontally in his arms, one arm hoisting him beneath the knee the other underneath the armpit, and spun in dizzying circles. Water continued to spray around them from wands somehow still clutched in mud splotched fists. On the third rotation, Draco’s heel slipped and they came down hard in a mud puddle that splashed them both past their chins.

      Hari had specs of mud on his glasses, while Draco had several splotches in his usually perfectly groomed platinum blonde hair. They sat on the muddy grass Hari perched on Draco’s lap with a white knuckled grip. Hari didn’t know if he was breathless from the fall or from laughing so hard. He looked up at Draco and lost his breath for another reason entirely.

    In that one brief moment Hari’s entire awareness was drawn to Draco. Even with mud slanted in hair and on neck and cheek; Draco Malfoy was stunning.  For some inexplicable reason, Hari felt a sudden fluttering sensation in his stomach, his heart was racing, and his hands were cold and sweaty around his wand. He felt tightness in his chest and realized that he was holding his breath. He let it out in a silent whoosh that blew across Draco’s wet throat. And suddenly, Hari was looking into captivating stormy gray eyes only inches away. Hari’s own eyes widened when he realized he was sitting on Draco’s lap, on the ground, in the mud. He scrambled up with an undignified yelp, cheeks scarlet, and heart racing. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he cleared his throat trying to come up with a distraction.  

     In that moment Hari was annoyed with himself for thinking Draco was stunning, he had always been annoyingly enough, haughty good looking. Hari was always able to pick him out of a crowd of over a hundred students just by his signature white-blonde hair. He didn’t understand his sudden reaction to the blonde now. He knew the wizard since adolescence. He could still see the slim boy from the robe shop with sleek, perfectly styled platinum blonde hair, pointy features, and haughty attitude that grated against his nerves from day one.

      _Malfoy was Malfoy,_ Hari thought flustered, except he was also _Draco_. And Draco was beautiful.

      It was true. As he matured many of those features remained, but refined. Hari peeked at Draco from the corner of his eye and stealthily observed from the dark fringe of his hair. As a child his cheeks were round and boyish, but as an adult the slight baby fat has disappeared, leaving behind high and sharp cheekbones that make his features appear sharper, with his aristocratic high brows, and strong jawline.

      Hari could never hope to achieve that level of attractiveness that came from confidence. Or did the confidence come from the knowledge that he was attractive. Oh, Draco certainly was conceited enough to think that way.

        _For Garrick’s sake! Stop checking him out all ready. It’s not like you are attracted to blokes…least of all Draco Malfoy._

       Hari was pulled from his quite observation when he heard the sound of a near inaudible titter from the terrace patio.

\------

Andromeda and Narcissa had been sitting down for after supper drinks in the parlor when they suddenly overheard a commotion from an open window.

 _A wretched motorbike crash,_ Thought Andromeda.

 _An attack,_ thought Narcissa.

 Without stopping to analyses the situation the two jumped up in haste, fearing the worse for the boys that were expected home any moment. The two sisters rushed through the Floo, library, and study to peer outside the terrace patio. They gasped at the sight before them. 

      Draco and Hari were covered in mud. Hari stood a ways away from the fallen Draco. If it wasn’t for the near besotted look on her sons face, she would have said there was some type of alteration between the two and her dragon had lost.

       “What in blazing hell happened here?” Andromeda shouted, trying a failing to stifle a startled laugh. It was she who tittered and drew Hari's attention in the first place. The two boys were a mess to say the least. Water soaked through muddy clothes.

       Hari had been the first to look up, his face a mortified red. Draco looked up a fraction of a second later and to the two above surprise, he busted up laughing. This caused a chain reaction in Hari joined in the laughter. Any attempt at stopping the hysterics resulted in a second of failed stoicism before a giggle escaped quivering lips, and the two continued to laugh.

      Narcissa shared a look with her brunette sister. “Do you think we should try the counter-curse for the _laughing_ jinx?”

      “No…” Andromeda remarked with another titter. “They’re just being boys. But they really ought to come inside now that the sun has set. Summer ailment is not so fun.”

       “Draco Lucius Malfoy! Get off the ground right this instance. Stop playing in the mud like a toddler, you are eighteen years old. Act Like it…” And so the scolding continued.     

      Hari reached for Draco’s hand to help him to his feet, teetering a bit on the wet and muddy ground. Nearly headbutting each other on the forehead they giggled as they tried to keep themselves in an upright position, holding onto each other’s forearms to keep from slipping again. Their lips threatened to break out into grins, but they accepted the scolding from the irate witches.  With a huff, the two witches retreated inside, pretending to be irked at the two teens when in fact they both were suppressing merry giggles of their own.

     After Andromeda and Narcissa left, they stood in silence and still dripping cold mud. It would be an easy thing to vanish the mud from most of their attire but Draco figured a warm bath would warm his body and cleanse his body after a stressful day away from Grimmauld Place. Stepping out of muddy trainers, the teens looked at each other, neither really wanting to leave each other’s company, but too awkward with each other still to voice this.  

    It was Hari that finally broke the silence. “Um…Dray?...you know, I…I’ve been answering your questions all night. Will you answer one of mine?...er…after this one that is?” Hari corrected. When Draco gave a nod of consent, Hari continued, “Why did you do it?” At Draco’s perplexed look, Hari elaborated. “Why didn’t you turn me into your father and Voldemort? You knew it was me, but you said you couldn’t be sure.”

      The look that came into Draco’s eyes Hari couldn’t begin to understand the meaning. “I may have wanted to ridicule you, humiliate you, knock you off your damn pedestal, and even cause you pain, but I…I never wanted to see you dead. Not ever Hari Potter.”

      _The world will never be the same without Hari Potter in it._

      Somehow Draco’s words pierced his very soul. “Same.” He croaked out.

     “Pardon?”

     “I felt, feel the same Dray, I never wished you dead, ever.”

      _The world wouldn’t be the same without Draco Malfoy in it._

     ------

    Draco had long since left Hari to potter around in the gardens alone, electing to take a hot soak in the tub and rinse his hair before the mud dried. Hari only gave a little shrug.  Hari couldn’t really fault Draco his vanity. Draco was used to a certain standard of living, having grown up pampered with the finer things of life. He knew Grimmauld Place was not as grand as the family Manor, and surprisingly Draco didn’t complain, much. Oh, he was still a snob. That Hari knew. But Hari also knew that Draco was trying to curve his ways. So, Hari curved his tongue in turn, and didn’t make the scathing retort he wanted to about his daily grooming ritual.

       Hari smiles as the garden slowly transformed with the magic of the night. Flowers whose fragile petals hid during the harsh glare of the sun, slowly opened to the soft glow of the moon. He sighed content, and then found himself laughing at a memory of the day. They had made a mess of the lawn. An overuse of _aguamenti_ had flooded the lawn in areas, causing puddles of standing muddy water, and it was no good for the grass or the roots of the plants. Some planters were tipped over, and soil spilt out in areas, and the grass was pulled up in some areas from the tussle. Magic garden or no, Hari had a bit of manual labor to add to the garden to make it right again. He didn’t mind, the mess, the extra work, nor getting dirty.

       Hari didn’t realize that he was singing while he worked. It was a happy tune that floated through the garden on a slight summer breeze. He thought about the events of that day, and came to the sudden and pleasantly surprising realization that he had genuinely fun today-with Draco Malfoy. Hari’s relationship with Draco was tentative at best, but he was beginning to see how they could get on in the future, if they had more days like this.

      His laughter sounded on the wind and floated up to a window left slightly ajar. Hari didn’t notice this as he continued to put the garden to right with a combination of magic and manual labor. Hari also didn’t notice the platinum blonde head that peaked out the window from above.   

        Draco finished his nightly beauty regiment quicker than usual. He didn’t need to be as strict with the amount of beauty products applied to his skin now that he came into his dragon inheritance. He wouldn’t have to worry about adolescence acne, nor premature balding, nor wrinkles for that matter. Dry skin was the only skin related issue he would have to worry about. If he didn’t apply enough moisturizer he became a bit scaly. Dry, itchy, and cracked skin was no fun to deal with when he already had enough alpha related problems to deal with.

       Not really sleepy, Draco wandered over to the window facing the back garden, wondering if Hari was still out there or if he had gone to bathe and was in bed or not. Perching on the edge of the windowsill he left propped open from earlier, he was pleasantly surprised to see that he was still sorting out the mess they had made of the garden. An unfamiliar pang of guilt plucked his heart. He should have offered to help, but common sense told him that he would be useless down there. Content to just watch in secret, he swung his right leg up and bent it at the knee, while he let the other leg dangle off one side. He moved the curtain back further from the window, and draped one arm around his knees and rested his check upon it as he watched the dark haired figure work below.

      Draco’s ears perked up as he caught a melodic sound on the wind. He strained his ears and eyes to try to find the source of the sound in the garden below. Shocked, Draco’s eyes widened. Hari’s lips were moving. _Hari sings?_ His dragon instantly perked up its ears, but try as he might; the wind cared the sound away. He watched as he used magic on some tasks like to _vanish_ the excess water, but he then manually worked with his hands in the soil and roots of the plants. Draco was amused to note that Hari simply plopped upturned grass right-side-up in the hole they had made during their skirmish. The moon had risen to clear the tree tops of their secret garden in the middle of the city. When Hari finally went inside, Draco assumed to clean up and get ready for bed, he stayed in the windowsill.

\------

     It wasn’t until Hari was out of the shower that he realized he wasn’t really sleepy.  With a quick _tempus_ , he realized it wasn’t even past eleven yet. The night wasn’t over, so why did Hari’s time with Draco have to end abruptly either. He had fun today and so what if it was with Draco bloody Malfoy. With a smirk in the mirror and a quick rub down of his hair, he admitted to himself that he was actually beginning to like the starky prat. If he wanted this…whatever this was… to continue he had to make an effort to try as well.  An idea was forming in his brain and he hastily toweled off. 

      Once dressed in _questioning clean_ clothes from his bedroom floor, he slipped out the door and down the hall towards Draco's room. The door was closed tight and Hari hesitated outside the door. He noted the sliver of pale light beneath the door and decided to take a chance that the blonde was still awake. He gave three quick knuckled raps of the door and waited. There was no response. Deciding to just take a peek inside, Hari opened the door a crack and peered inside the room. 

      Draco wasn't sleeping. He sat in the windowsill, moonlight casting over him with ethereal beauty. Light and shadows played across his face sketching cheekbones in sharp contrast. For the second time that day, Hari was enthralled by the sight of Draco Malfoy. His limbs were so long and elegant draped across each other. In adolescence he would have said Draco features were pointy; pointy nose, pointy chin, pointy ears. But know his features seem sharper. High cheekbones, a strong jawline and with high brows, gives Draco Malfoy an aristocratic look. The smug bastard would say, it’s all in the breading. His skin was flawless, pale and smooth, it glowed like alabaster in the moonlight, his hair gleamed like spun silver. Even his blasted feet where pretty; narrow feet, high arch, and long toes. 

        Hari stepping into the room. The door shut with an almost inaudible _click._  Draco still didn't acknowledge him, lost in thought. Suddenly Draco moved, but not as expected. He sighed nice and long, wrapping both arms around his knee, and rested his head on top of them. The leg that dangled swung fanciful, back and forth. As he watched, Draco raised his hand as if to catch moonbeams, light caress over pale skin and sharp manicured nails almost glistening like scales in the light. Hari blinked once; long and slow, the mirage disappeared. Hari told himself it was a trick of the light. 

       Taking another hesitant step into Draco's private domain. He called out softy, "Draco?" 

       Draco turned his head slowly towards the sound, seemingly unhindered by the intrusion on his private space. "Hari..." He breathed out, eyes slightly unfocused before snapping to attention. His whole posture changed as he uncurled from his perch on the windowsill. "What are you doing here?" Draco's voice sounded harsh, even to his own ears. 

     "I...I...er... I wanted to know..." Hari trailed off as Draco glided on graceful steps across the room towards Hari. 

      "You wanted?" Draco said as stalked ever closer.

      "I wa...want t...t...ed" Hari stuttered out at Draco's sudden closeness. Draco's gray eyes, reflecting silver pools surrounding dark pupils. Hypnotizing. 

     "Yes?" Draco hummed out, breath caressing over Hari's face as he waited for a response. Pale fingers reached up to rest gently against one tanned cheekbone. His fingers were like ice. 

     "Do you want to have a drink?" Hari suddenly blurted out louder than expected with his face flushed a burning red.

     The sudden loudness of the exclamation caused Draco to flinch and drop his hand. He took a step back with a jerky nod of his head.

     Taking that as a confirmation, Hari took a hasty step back bumping into the door frame. Fumbling fingers reached for the door handle, before after seemingly an eternity grasped the handle. Sighing in relief, Hari turned the handle stepped around the door and out. Before he shut it he managed to get out, "I'll be in my study." The door closed, the click of the door sounded louder in the defining silence afterwards. 

    On the other side of the door, Hari let out a shaky breath. "What the hell was that?" Hari said as he raised his fingertips to a suddenly icy-cold cheek. Draco's hand had been freezing.   

     "What the hell was that?" Draco echoed on his side of the door. The hand that reached out to touch Hari's cheek was now curled into a tight fist at his side. He painfully uncurled his fingers gone stiff from _ice-blood_ , and marveled at the state of his hand. Blood flowed freely from four deep furrows in his palm, gorged out by his own sharp talons. Before Hari had arrived he had been lost in a daydream; fantasizing while he let his inner dragon out to explore his senses while locked safely in his room. Something he hadn't had the opportunity to do when he first arrived. His mother would be his guide to master his new found powers, and control his instincts in constant battle inside his conscious. Today could have been very bad indeed. First with Weasley, the alpha Curse-Breaker, and then the crowds in Diagon Alley and later the streets of Muggle London.  Although, not caught within the throes of his rut, his dragon was in control when the person of his every fantasy stepping into his dragon's lair. 

      _Ice-blood_  reigned in his desire, before he could do anything more than touch. It is a very good thing that Hari was not yet of age. Who knows what he would have done otherwise...That was a lie. Of course he knew what he would have done. He was fantasizing about it moments ago. Angry and disgusted with himself, he paced the length of the room. He couldn't let his dragon, his alpha instincts win. He didn't want to lose Hari again. 

Draco raised his bloody hand to his mouth, unwittingly trying to return warmth to his hand by breathing fire into his fist. _He felt that._ Searing pain brought him to his knees. Normally his dragon scales were immune to his fire, but his scales were not impenetrable to his own talons, and his fire cauterizing the wound. 

       _Shite._

 _"_ DOT!" He shouted. the house-elf appeared with a loud crack in the room. 

      "Oh, master Draco! yours poor hands"

       "Stop bloody fretting and hopping around and get me something." 

        "Masters Draco, sirs! What to get. What poor Dot gets for poor masters hands?!"

        "Blasted house-elf! Something to numb!" Draco could barely concentrate his thoughts through the pain. "Star Grass Salve...get the..." CRACK. Dot had left. Presumably to do what he ordered. 

       Cursing the air blue, face red and sweat beading at his temple, he waited with barely controlled screams of pain for his house-elf to appear with the salve to once again numb his hand from the pain. What was taking that blasted house-elf so long to return. 

       "Dragon! what happened? Let me see, mon petite." _Oh no!_ His mother. Dot got his mother. 

      "I was trying not to maul Potter!" He gritted out as Narcissa lowered to her knees and raised his bloody third degree burned hand to eye level. 

     Narcissa clicked her tongue, "tsk, So you decide to maul yourself instead, Mon petite. Very wise. And then burn yourself. What were you thinking?" 

     "Mother! Can you just help me, already. I have to meet Hari soon. He's not of age, I can't explain these injuries to him." He begged.

      "Dittany I suspect. Rare, expensive. We might have some. Star Grass is easier to come by and numbs the pain, works against infection, better on burns, but takes days of soaking and bandaging to heal. If we had dittany the wound will heal faster, but it still won't erase the scar right away.  What you need is rest." Mother scolded son. "You've been running around London just a day after your rut ended, give your hormones time to settle." 

    "No, Hari is waiting for me." Narcissa stared at her stubborn son. He had a wild, desperate look to his eyes. He wouldn't budge on this, she knew.

     "Fine, but I will be up and listening. You need help controlling yourself, call ta mère." 

     ------

       Choosing to push what happened out of his mind for the moment Hari went through the parlors Floo and on into his study. He needed to get a hold of himself. How did they normally interact with each other again? Oh, right! They sniped at each other, provoked each other, fought physically and dueled with magic. Normal? Hari didn't want to return to that. 

        Hari heard the sound of the Floo in the other room.  _Act casual!_ Squaring his shoulders, he raised the contents of his hands in the air.

        “Care for a nightcap, Dray?” Hari ended up saying when Draco stepped into the room, cheeks red.  

        Draco quirked an eyebrow. “whatcha got, good?” He said as he sudley hid his now white bandaged hand from view. 

       Hari introduced Draco to bourbon. Draco introduced him to firewhiskey. Draco admired the smooth taste and slow burn of the Muggle whiskey. Hari appreciated the quick burn and spicy notes of firewhiskey.  

      The evening went on, with Draco and Hari trading drink after drink. Both sure that they could drink the other under the table. They retired to the couch rather than the bar stools after their third, maybe fourth shot say Draco nearly falling on his arse. Draco would not admit that happened. Least if they fell, it wouldn't be too far before their bums hit the ground. Or was Hari's reasoning, anyways.

      Draco was sitting on the couch, both legs curled in for comfort, while Hari sat stretched out on the floor between the couch and coffee table. Draco had to reach over Hari to get to the depleting bottles of alcohol. Draco went to reach for the last of the firewhiskey, missing it completely. Hari in his own drunken state, found this immensely funny. 

      "S'not funny..." Draco slurred. 

     "Your sloshed, Dray. Absolutely wasted!" Hari giggled.

      "M'not, yu'r wasted." Draco sulked as he finally caught the offensive drink that eluded his hand before. As he went to retract his hand, his night robe rolled back to reveal a white bandaged hand. Hari's gasp was the only warning he had before his hand was snatched up in painfully strong hands.

       "What happened to your hands?" Draco too squinted at the aforementioned hand, almost confusingly. His alcohol induced brain trying to catch up with the sudden shift in Hari's behavior  _Where?_

     "Oh, right! That." Draco hedged not sure what  _Taboo_ would or wouldn't let him say.

     "Yes this? Where did you get this injury from?"

      "A dragon?" His voice lilted at the end, turning the statement into a question. He was more focussed on Hari kneeling before him, hands now gently cupping Draco's white bandaged hand. 

      Hari appeared to be in deep thought with brows furrowed. He twisted the hand over with a slight twist of the wrist. Draco sweatdropped as he waited for Hari's response.

       Hari snorted at the absurd response. He thought about calling him out on his bullshit. Hari knows what scars from a dragon attack looks like, bearing some of those scars himself.  

      "Fine don't tell me how you injured yourself, probably a potion for skin care gone wrong, or something. What did you use as treatment?" Draco was simply gawking at Hari who turned his hand and raised it to closer to his nose to see. Alcohol surely wasn't helping his eyesight any better. 

     "Ah...ah...er...star grass! Mother used star grass salve." Draco stuttered out. 

     "Hmm...I used that salve fifth year." He said flashing his _I must not tell lies_ scars on the back of his right hand done with a blood quill in detention with umbridge. "I bet I have Dittany around here... somewhere?" Hari trailed off, actually turning his head this way and that as if he would be able to see it in the study. He pulled out his beautiful willow wand and said, " _Accio Dittany_." And waited. 

     For a halted moment the too just sat in silence. Draco snorted a laugh.  _"_  I guess you are just not good at that charm are you?"

 _"_ Hey! I'll have you know that I mastered that spell fourth year during the triwizard tournament." Hari said with some haughtiness. 

     "Yeah, hey Potter? How did you manage to summon your firebolt all the way to the quidditch pitch from the castle anyways?"

      Hari looked at Draco in confusion for a moment. Like it was obvious. "I left a window open." 

     "You left...left a...a window open. hahaha!" Draco began to laugh and fell back against the couch cushion. For the average wizard, the item summoned had to be within sight of the summoner for the charm to work. Hari Potter was not an average wizard after all. Only Hari Potter would shrug off his accomplishments so easily. Salazar, Draco loved this extraordinary boy. Hari sniffed and didn't bother dignifying that with a response as he heard a clicking sound as the phial of dittany zipped into his hands. 

     "Ah-ha! gotcha." Hari said smugly. For a drunk person he was awfully gentle as he pulled away the bandages from Draco's injury, wincing in symphanty as he pulled away dried blood with flesh in the process. In unsteady hands, he took the stopper off the off the phial and took a couple drops of dittany to the mess of Draco's hand. Green vapor appeared as the skin slowly knitted back together. The scars now appeared faintly pink, against albester skin. 

      Hari sat back on the floor with his head resting on the cushion besides Draco's knees. He let out a whooshing breath in relief of not spilling the rare potion all over the place. "It'll scar, but it shouldn't be too noticeable" He mumbled. 

      Draco leaned over Hari, close enough that his silver blonde hair brushed Hari's cheek. Hari blinked opened his eyes to stare into Draco's inhibited gray eyes. Draco said,"Don't worry these aren't the only scars I own." 

     Hari's throat tightened as memories of sixth year swam into mind, Draco sprawled on the bathroom floor with blood soaking through clothes and floating in inch high water around him. Hari's eyes prickled with tears. "I'm sorry." He choked out once.

     Draco's eyes widened in panic, before he slipped off the couch beside Hari and cupped his tear streaked cheeks. "Wha...why...shhh, shhh, no luv." He shushed as his thumbs tried desperately to wipe away tears from eyes as they poured out. He didn't register the endearment and neither did Hari.   

     Draco didn't expect to comforting a weeping Hari. Not knowing what to do he looked around in haste, before scooping Hari in a more comfortable position against his chest and just let him cry. His heart was racing a mile a minute, as he just held Hari for the longest time, waiting for the tears o subside.  

     When Hari's sobs finally subsided, he remained snuggled into Draco's chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat was comforting against Hari's ear. The silence in the room was broken by a wet giggle.  

     "Potter, what's so funny." 

     "You, Malfoy. Me. Us, like this. Who would have thought I would be crying on Draco Malfoy's shoulder" Hari said with another wet laugh as he raised his head, sat back and tried to dry the remaining tears on his cheeks. Draco handed Hari a handkerchief from his robe pocket.

      Draco laughed dryly, a broken chuckle, before sighing as he shook back his hair from his face. "What brought that on anyway? Surely, you've seen more gruesome scars than this?"   

      Hari looked at Draco seriously. "Those are the first scars that I inflicted on anyone. Draco, I almost killed you." 

     Draco didn't care about those scars, he strangely enough charisted those scars over the one his father gave him after one of his rare rage induced beatings. Hari wouldn't know about any of those."Well...Potter, I'm alive." Draco said. "I thought we moved passed this." With a sudden tired sigh, Draco listed his right elbow to cover his eyes as he leaned back into the couch. 

      A hand on Draco's jaw drew his gaze down to stare into Hari's emerald eyes, though glass stained with splatters of dried tears. "May I see them? Your scars?"

      Draco was stunned, he never thought to be having a drunk conversation with Hari Potter like this. Brain scrambling and heart racing he tried to play it off. "Why Potter," Draco said taking the last sip of his drink to his lip, before pouring himself another tumbler. "if you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask." Draco really couldn't bring himself to show Hari the scars on the lower half of his body. 

     Was that a drunken flush to Hari's cheeks or embarrassment? "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours." Was the serious response he got instead. Draco found himself the one blushing.

    Hari scrambled up, and Draco reached up to stop him afraid he had taken his teasing too far. Hari only swatted his hand away and proceeded to strip his nightshirt from his body. He only wobbling slightly, inhibited by alcohol. He didn't fall and Draco's breath froze in his chest. 

     For the second time that day, Draco thought Hari was perfect. Except he wasn't. Draco could see, even threw pink hued lovestruck lenses and drunken inhibition that the boy he loved was scarred. 

      Draco's eyes were immediately drawn to the scars on Hari's torso and arms. He didn't know he stood up until his own fingertips traced over warm skin on Hari's chest. Beneath his fingers he could feel as well as see, the 's' shaped burn mark in the dip between his clavicle.  

     Hari didn't need a mirror to see what scar he was tracing. That was the scar left by Salazar Slytherin's locket. Hari was trembling all over. He never let anyone get this close to him before. But he let, Draco traced the shape over his skin with ragged breath, quivering body, and clammy fists. 

      Draco let his fingertips glide over Hari's skin, tracing the line of his clavicle to his shoulder; shoulder to elbow, and finally rest on the starburst scar on his right forearm. Hari closed his eyes. He still remembers the pain in his arm where the Basilisk's fang pierced his arm, even as he pierced the Sword of Gryffindor through its skull.

     Next Draco traced the jagged knife wound on Hari's arm. Its position mirrored the placement of the Dark Mark that marred Draco's own skin. Hari knew this mark. The origin of this scar haunted his dreams still. The final task, the towering hedges, the Cup that was a portkey, Cedric's death, being chained to a tombstone, helpless, hopeless. The cold of the metal and then the sering pain as the knife carved his blood out of his skin, so that Peter Pettigrew could use his blood to resurrect the body of Lord Voldemort. 

       _So many scars! Where did they all come from?_ Draco thought as he continued his agonizing and delightful exploration of Hari's body with just his fingertips. 

     Then next trail of fingers down Hari's rib cage was heading towards the the scar on Hari's hip bone when it was halted. Draco looked up to see Hari's eyes unfocussed. "Hari, luv." He gulped. "look at me, please." With breath rattling in his chest, his eyes focussed on Draco's. "Are you with me?"

     "I...I...need to stop." He managed. 

     "Okay, okay...we'll stop." When Draco went to step away from Hari, his legs buckled and Draco caught him. He sat down with Hari's legs over his lap and head once more on his shoulder, and his hands carded through damp and messy hair. Draco decided to talk. 

      "When I was seven, I wanted a book from Flourish & Blotts. It was a very popular children's illustrated book that everyone I knew was talking about it. It was about the most famous wizarding child.  _Harry Potter._ " Hari gasped in his arms, looking up at Draco as if seeing him for the first time. "Father never denied me anything, so naturally I expected to get the book." Draco paused. "He told me no. For the first time in my life, I remember feeling anger. I threw a tantrum right there in the bookstore." Draco paused. Hari could see his eyes were far away. 

      "He hit me in public, not hard mind, not in public...never in public." He whispered taking another swing of firewhiskey. 

     "He took me home. Locked me in my room for the first time. Hours later, he returned to let me out. He brought me to his private offices. A few of his friends were there. Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, a few others...He made me strip my lower half bare, bent me over his desk, and used his cane on me." Draco's voice was far away. "You know my fathers cane with his wand in the snakehead handle? That one. Father wouldn't let mon mère heal me. They scarred."

      "You have to be lying." Hari said in drunken disbelief. He didn't know why he said it. Hari could tell that Draco wasn't lying. 

      "I am not lying! I have it written in my journal. I have the scars to prove it." Draco was incensed. He rose up, dropping Hari's legs from his lap, and began to strip, slapping Hari's hands away when he went to stop him. The marks of the caning was evident when he presented his posterior to Hari. Horizontal lines marked up his lower back, buttocks, and thighs.  

      "That was the first, the worst, but it wasn't the last. Anytime I displeased my father, for speaking out of line, or failing in sports, or school. Usually it was over you, or your mud-Granger. Anytime you succeeded, I failed, and therefore was a failure to him." He shot back another finger of alcohol. 

        Hari didn't know what to say at first. He took a slower sip of his own drink, brooding. "I also was beaten by my relatives." Hari revealed. It was something that only a few close people of his new about, but never did anything about it. 

      "I suspected but didn't want to believe that anyone would abuse you. I thought it was the Weasley's at first." 

     "Wai...what? How did you know. You thought the Weasley's abused me? They would never!" Hari was outraged. 

     "Hey my family has been telling me that the Weasleys were uncouth savages, and then on the first train...you were with Weasel, and you chose him over me...and, and...I believed he was the wrong sort...and, and, I wrote it down...and every school year you'd have fresh bruises...I was only eleven okay!" Draco finally screeched. 

      Hari laughed. Draco sulked. 

      "You have a diary about me?" There was a very pregnant pause.

      "what?" Draco said, his brain idled. 

      "A diary. You wrote in your diary about me." Hari said.

     "What are you blabbering on about, Potter? A diary. Please. I don't have a diary." Draco's ears were definitely red. 

     "Are you writing a book on me then, or..."

     Draco interrupted. "It's a journal, okay? Not a diary, a journal!" 

      "So, when you were a child you wanted to read books about me. You wrote about me in your, excuse me, your  _journal._  And you pay enough attention to know I've been abused. Why are you so obsessed with me?" Hari half joked.

      "No, I...I just want to know everything about you...because I love you!" Draco blurted out without thinking. A fraction of a second later, Hari watched as all the color drained from Draco's face, and his eyes pop wide with fright. Hari felt his own jaw drop in astonishment.

     Hari really didn't know how to respond to a drunken confession like this. Hermione always said he was oblivious to other's emotions of the heart.  _Was this one of those times?_  He's never confessed like Draco had to him. He's asked Cho Chang to the Yule Ball that one time. And got rejected. Ouch that had hurt. But they ended up dating a few times fifth year after the death of Cedric, her boyfriend. _Man, was I just the rebound?_  

      The only times Hari could remember being confessed to was on Valentines Day. Those had been awkward enough. There was that one time during second year, Ginny had sent him a Cupid Gram, with a man in a diaper chasing him down the corridor, singing and sprouting poems that professed her ever dying love for him. And...Hari hung his head, embarrassed. He ended up dating her four years later. Hari didn't even ask her out, or confess his feelings, he just kissed her after Gryffindor won the House Cup and that was it. _Pathetic._   

      This was worse than Draco thought. He didn't plan on confessing tonight, he was going to wait. But this silence was too much. What did it mean? Oh no, oh no! "Why aren't you saying anything? Do you hate me now that I've confessed. Do you find me disgusting now that you know I'm gay? " 

      "No, of course not. I don't have a problem with you being gay. How can you think that after I brought you to Sheryl's? You can love whomever you want...But Draco you couldn't possibly love me." Hari said in desperation.

        Then watched in horror as tears suddenly began leaking from Draco's eyes.  

       "Oh man, oh no, Draco! Why... are...are you crying? Hari asked beginning to panic. 

        "It's because you ripped my fucking heart out. Okay, Potter! Can't a bloke cry when he's been rejected, huh? It not like I didn't know you couldn't possible love the likes of me. It's not like I even meant to confess, it just slipped out. I'm not a bleeding buggering moron like some people, I knew you couldn't possibly return my feelings. You're not even gay. You have a girlfriend." He wiped the tears from his eyes with frustrated huffs of breath and impatient hands. 

      Oh crap, his own limited experiences had not compared him for this. Unsure and floundering for words, "Draco, I don't see how you could have come to like me, but I am not going to reject your feelings for me...I am just unsure if I can return them." Hari said in a rush, looking at Draco's face for any sort of reaction. 

      _Pfft._   Draco snorted out a startled laugh. Hari was not expecting that reaction. Suddenly, Hari's look of earnest, changed to confusion, then hurt, then anger. He was just ready to stagger up on drunken legs when Draco draped his full weight over Hari knocking him to the floor. His glasses tipped off his head not that his eyesight wasn't already blurry. Hari turned around, using on forearm to try and knock Draco off him, while the other supporting his weight on the floor. "Hey, Draco..." He gritted out.  

            "Hey, Hari!" Draco said as he cuddled into Hari's chest on the floor. "You know I love you right? cuz, I don't think you do." He looked up at Hari with drunken giddiness. "You don't see yourself as I do, Hari. Your brave and loyal, instinctive and resourceful, sassy and witty, compassionate and selfless, and bloody gorgeous. Those are all the things I love about you."

       The first drunken confession only confused Hari, the second more heartfelt one caused Hari's heart to nearly beat right out of his chest. Instead of pushing Draco away, he wrapped his arms around him tighter instead.

       "You like me that much?" He whispered, face flushed and voice hoarse.

       "pfft. Admire. Obsess. Love." Draco replied in a sleep muffled voice, his body heavy against Hari's.

       "Why?"   

       Another sleepy laugh, "Let me count the ways..." 

        _Shakespeare._   _How does Draco know who shakespeare is?_

"Hey Dray..." 

       "Hmmn...?"

       "Can you show me your journal in the morning?"

        "I don't know," Draco said as he lazily stretched and repositioned his body to lay more comfortably across Hari's. "What's in it for me?"

       "Slytherins" He scoffed with an eyeroll, "... what do you want?"

       Hari felt the sleepy smile spread against his bare torso. "Gryffindor...a kiss. I want a kiss." 

      Hari smiled then. He moved one of his arms to pillow behind his head, and kept the other anchored around Draco. He let his nose graze over soft, silky, hair. He planted a soft kiss on Draco's scalp and settled back. Draco let out a whine, "Cheat!" 

       Hari snickered as he listened to Draco's breathing finally settle into a sleepy rhythm. _How did we end up like this, again?_ Hari thought from beneath the sleeping wizard. Hari had managed to pull his wand from the table above their heads and so knew that it was now half passed three in the morning. He didn't know why he didn't just leave Draco's naked ass in the study and go to bed, but he was still laying beneath him an hour later. 

      Hari was just beginning to think that he would have to use the  _rennervate_ incantation to wake Draco up, when he began to stir. Draco mumbled something incoherently and pressed his body closer to Hari's. Hari's relief was short lived, as he realized that Draco was rubbing is hardening member against Hari's thigh provocatively. Hari felt the hard press of it against his thigh. _This was not happening._ Jolting up, Hari scrambled out from beneath Draco, letting the blonde head bounce against the carpet. 

     "Ouch! hurts! brrrr. cold" Draco said as he rubbed his head with one shaking hand, before curled up in a ball and shivered. 

      "Shit, Draco are you alright?" Hari said kneeling over Draco to touch his arm. It was cold to the touch. Hari hadn't thought it was that cold in the study, but apparently Draco was freezing. 

     He struggled to get Draco to his feet and out of the study. If Hari thought it was hard to get the still drunk and half conscious Draco through the Floo, maneuvering him up four flights of stairs was more difficult. It never crossed his mind to use magic. 

     "Draco, goddamnit, wake up!" He gritted in Draco's ear as he managed the first flight of stairs. 

      "Hari? Where are we going?" He mumbled barely clearing his toes over each step. They tripped and stumbled into the hall on the next landing. 

       Narcissa stepped out of her room at the ruckus with wand raised. She lowered it, with a disbelieving part of her lips, whispered, "Dragon?" 

        "Sorry Narcissa. Draco is drunk. I am just getting him to bed." Hari panted out. 

          _Why are you both naked?_ Narcissa didn't need to know the answer to that. 

         "Bed? Are you taking me to bed, Hari luv. Going to let me get the rest of your clothes off?" Draco giggled. 

        "Um...no." Hari said with a quick eye flick in Narcissa's direction. Narcissa just quirked her eyebrow, identically to Draco's.

        Draco wasn't listening though."That's a great idea. You make all the best decisions. I make the worse choices." Draco slumped a bit more, but then perked back up, nearly jostling Hari over the railing. "I know, you should make all my decisions for me."

     "You are so going to regret this conversation tomorrow, Dray. Guaranteed. Okay, I'll make all your decisions for now on. The first one getting you to bed. Now put one foot in front of the other. Stand up." 

      Something moved beneath her hand on the banister as she peered up and the railing to see Hari and her son slowly climb the stairs. She yelped and moved her hand back startled. Asclepius, slithered on by. She was lucky he hadn't decided to bite her to get her attention. She heard hissing coming from Hari, no doubt conversing with the wooden snake fixture. 

      Narcissa had to close her eyes in embarrassment for her son. "See luv, you make great decisions, lets go to bed, am I sleeping in your bed or are you sleeping in mine?" Hari hissed, and Draco yelped. 

      "You told him to bite me, didn’t you?"

      "I don’t know what you are talking about, Dray." Hari said clearly lying. "See Draco, yet another example of your bad decision making. Your sleeping alone. I doubt you’ll remember this conversation anyway." 

       Narcissa was still standing at the railing, staring in astonishment on how Hari had manipulated her son. She suppressed a giggle at the exchange. She stepped back into her room when she had a thought. _Why didn't Hari stupify her son then leviate him up the stair?_ She paused as if to interject with her finger raised in the air, and then shrugged it aside, choosing instead to go back to her own warm bed instead. They were already on their landing, anyway. 

     Reaching the fourth floor landing, Hari was able to stumble Draco into his room. He was glad that Draco's room was right next to the stairs, and so they didn't have to take the long trek down the hall.

      With Hari's help, Draco flopped on his canopy bed with a ridiculous amount of pillows. 

      Trying to entice Hari into his bed, be tried for sultry but just sounded silly to Hari's ears, said; "Care to join me, Potter? You know you want to." Draco then giggled. 

      Hari didn’t. he really didn’t. What he did want was a glimpse at Draco's alleged journal of him in hopes of clearing up this confusion. Because, before tonight Hari had always believed that Draco hated him as a child, but now he is saying the complete opposite. So, he had to get his hands on that journal.

      “Hey Dray?" Hari said, leaning over Draco with his hands near his head. "You know what would be a really good decision right now?" Hari didn't know why he was doing this. He noticed the shiver and remembered Draco's half dressed state.

      Draco’s brain just shut down, he shivered, the ear where Hari’s hand just barely grazed was already going numb with cold from the _ice-blood._  His breath stuttered in his chest. The breeze from the open window was wafting in the heavy aroma of sweet roses from the garden, with the undertone of snow. Draco's lust filled brain, impaired with alcohol wanted to make another bad decision and kiss Hari. He imagined taking Hari in his arms, laying him down beneath him, keep him in his bed permanently until his sheets and Hari smelled like them. 

     “What?” he whispered through a lust fueled haze. 

     “You... letting me read your journal,” Hari replied.

      A look of confusion passed over Draco's face. He shook his head, then nodded and reached underneath his pillow next to him to pull out a leatherbound book. He offered the book towards Hari, before swiftly moving it over his head beyond Hari’s reach. He giggled.

      “Kiss me and I’ll let you see." Draco said with a twinkle in his eye.

      Hari frowned, catching the nuance. “I kiss you and you let me _read_  it for the rest of the night. I will return it to you at breakfast." Hari countered.

     "On the lips” Draco bargoned, faintly remembering the light brush of lips on his hair.

     Hari sighed, “Okay a kiss on the lips in exchange for you letting me read your journal. I'll return it at breakfast."

      Draco nodded eagerly. He handed over the book so swiftly he nearly conked Hari in the head with it, before turning over with a content sigh, rump presented to the open air. Draco was eager to get to sleep so he could wake and be able to kiss Hari. It never even occurred to Draco that Hari might be lying. Hari never lied.

      Hari flushed and chuckled embarrassed and amused. Draco was like a child when drunk. "Night, Dray. Put some pants on why don't you"

     Draco's laughter was muffled against the pillows. "I will. Night Hari, luv."

     Draco listened to the sound of footsteps heading towards the door, then pause, before changing direction and heading back towards him. He felt a tapping on his shoulder and Hari breath in his ear, “It’s locked.”

      Draco giggled again, “Oops.” Not even looking Draco reached back felt for the prick on the top right of the spiny journal and a drop of his blood opened the journal. "Wait," he said as he took back the journal, and writes something in hastily in shorthand with a quick-fill pen so he wouldn’t forget. It read: 

_Don't let Hari return this to you, without getting a kiss on the lips in exchange. _

     He then underlined the word kiss.

    Draco handed back the journal, before plopping back into the pillows this time pulling the duvet up. Hari read the last page Draco wrote in, blushing at the words but vowed to keep his promise. 

\------

     Hari slipped into his room, letting out a relieved breath when he heard the click of the door shutting. What to do? He couldn’t deny that he was flattered by Draco’s confession. He didn't feel disgusted, about a boy confessing to him or that it was Draco Malfoy who did the confessing.  

_Because, I love you._

     There it was again; that heart racing, stomach jumping feeling just from remembering the words spoken by a very drunk Draco. Would Draco even remember the drunken confession when he woke up? Hari strained his eyes trying to see the clock hanging on the wall behind the door. It was pass four in the morning, and there were only a few more hours before the sun rose and Hari would have to make good on his promise to return the journal by breakfast.

     A Time-Turner would be great about now.  

     Now that he had the journal, did it really prove anything. Hari knew from experience that just because it was written down didn't mean that it was true. He had the wool pulled over his eyes on too many occasions. There was that first time, with Tom Riddle's diary back in second year. Then during sixth year with the Half-Blood Prince's potion book. And how many times had that horrid witch Rita Skeeter, wrote falsified newspaper articles about him? 

     Actions speak a lot louder than words, or written words in this case. How could Hari believe Draco's words, when his actions spoke louder. Hari passed paced the length of his room, running his thumb over his lip, gnawing at his bottom lip.  

        _A Kiss. I want a kiss._

       Hari shivered. Actions. Draco had kissed him once before. When he first arrived, with his mother. His mother had kissed him on both cheeks and the lips in gratitude. Draco had done the same, but wiped his lips afterwards in disgust. He then avoided him for three days. And Hari couldn't help but remember all the cruel taunts in school over the years. Those were not the actions of a a person in love. Would reading Draco's Journal really solve the underlying issue? 

     Hari needed some advice. His mind was just going around in circles. 

      He couldn’t talk to Ron about it, because Hari knew him to be homophobic. Besides, he hates Draco Malfoy more than I do. Hermione? No, even if he could get in touch with her all the way in Australia, and he knows she would have sound advice, his two best friends were a 'thing' now, and wasn’t it a 'thing' when you were in a 'thing; to tell each other everything?  On a long suffering sign, he sat up from the bed and he put his head in his hands.

      He was all alone with his thoughts. Maybe if Sirius was still alive, they could discuss his feelings. He heard a snore from the corner of the room. _Sirius’s portrait._  He could talk to his godfather afterall.

     Trying to wake up a portrait when they were asleep was a hard thing to do. That's all they did most of the day anyway. Sirius was a particular heavy sleeper. Tapping on his frame didn't help. In the end, Hari tipped the portrait upside down, nearly flipping Sirius out of the portrait to wake him up. 

      "Sirius I got to talk to you. It's important". Hari staged whispered. 

      "What is is pup?" His godfather's portrait asked in a completely normal voice.

       Hari gnawed at his bottom lip again, unsure now that Sirius was awake what his response had been. He had always been able to talk to him. but this...

       "Pronglet, pup, you're starting to worry me." Came Sirius's concerned voice.

       Hari rished his explanation. "I went out with Malfoy today. Took him around London, then we had some drinks. Anyway. Draco...Draco, he confessed." Hari shouted the last line.

       Sirius laughed triumphantly, "Confessed what? That he is guilty? I knew it. I’ll get Phineas Black's portrait to reach Dumbledore's portrait. Have them go to the Ministry and have a conference with Kingsley."

      "Sirius, no!"

       "We'll put him back in a cell mark my word. Death Eater, son of a Death Eater. Their both Malfoy's it doesn't matter..."

      "No, Sirius...his FEELINGS". Hari shouted to be heard. 

       "What feelings?" Sirius said in confusion.

       Hari was definitely regretting wanting to confide in Sirius now. He squirmed beneath his godfather's gaze. "You know…for me…" He trailed off.

      Sirius just stared for a moment, before bursting out in wild gales of laughter and tears streaming down his face. He was holding his belly, "Good one Prongslet. You really had me there for a moment." He said wiping a stray tear from his eye. 

     "I am serious, Sirius! Draco confessed. Now what do I do." Hari blurted out, mortified.

     "Pup, what are you saying? You don’t have to do anything. It’s not like he expected a reply, I mean you were with Cho and then Ginny. He knows this. He is probably just messing with you." Sirius said imploringly. 

    "But I...I don't hate the idea...I think he isn't lying, but I can't be sure," Hari mumbled. 

     "Pup, you listen to me and you listen to me good, you hear. Whatever you are feeling right now...it's because you're drunk. It's not real. You're all alone with those Slytherin's and you are missing your friends...your girlfriend. Malfoy caught you while you were low, and you are confusing your need for friendship with whatever this is. This confession, it will blow over. It's because your depressed, and you're going through a phase and it will pass."

      Hari listened with only have an ear as he let Sirius run through his spiral, but he detached from his emotions. When Sirius was done talking, he tilted his head to the side and asked in a pseudo calm voice. "So which is it then?"

      "What" Sirius asked confused.

      "Is it because I am lonely, and miss my friends that I can even think to be friends with Draco?" Hari asked with hands clenched tightly together.  

      "What of course, not..." Sirius tried to interject.

      "Is it because I am drunk that I find Malfoy attractive, or witty, and caring?" 

      "Wait, let's go back to the beginning..."

       "No! Sirius. It's true." Hari cried out. His emotions suddenly at the surface boiling over. "I've always found Draco attractive. I've just never admitted it to myself before tonight. I thought I liked girls, but I have always paid just a little too much attention to Draco Malfoy. I mean, he's always there. I always ha...hated him. He's always given me reasons to hate him. But I don't hate him anymore, and now he is saying all these things...that he lo...loves me." Hari stuttered over the words, having never spoken them outloud before. "No one has said that to me before. Not Cho, not Ginny, just Draco...and I liked it. His confession. It made me feel wanted. I never had that before. And you say it's because, I'm depressed, lonely, it's just a phase. Sirius, if I feel this way all the time...is it wrong?" 

       "No, Pup, no. It's not wrong. Your emotions are never wrong." Sirius said. He looked at his godson, and wished things could be different. That he wasn't dead. That he wasn't just a portrait on the wall that Hari would sometimes talk to. He wished that he could step outside the frame and just hold his godson. Reassure him that everything was going to be okay. And just be there.

       "I just don't want you to get hurt. I don't think he is good for you. I want you to be sure, before you jump into any commitment..Speaking of commitments, what about Ginny?" 

       "Ginny? Oh, Ginny. We broke up after Dumbledore's funeral. I didn't want anyone going after her because of me. I haven't really spoken with her about getting back together. There just hadn't been enough time, with the funerals and what not..." Hari trailed off. "I don't know if I feel the same way anymore." Hari said sullenly. 

       The portrait of Sirius slapped his knee as he gave a snorting crackle of a laugh, "I'd say Pronglet, if you are considering dating my second cousin."

     Hari gave a week chuckle of his own. "So, what do I do, Sirius?"

     "First thing you do, pup...snoop through that boy's diary before he wakes up and realized what a mistake he made handing it over so freely. Then you use it as blackmail..." 

     "Sirius..." Hari said on a laugh.

      "They don't call me serious for nothing. How old is he anyway...seventeen?"

       "Eighteen, he just had a birthday before he moved in here." Hari said.

       "Oh, that might be a problem...I have to tell you something, pup."

       "Oh, shit Sirius. Can we finish this conversation later, I have to read this before breakfast." 

       "Prongslet! Wait!"

\-------

        Draco woke up later that morning, wincing at the bright light of the late morning sun streaming through the open window. His head was pounding and his tongue felt like cotton and tasted like rubbish. He didn't remember how he got to bed last night. 

       He lays in bed, looking up at the green canopy that reminds Draco of Hari's eyes. Through the pounding headache he tried to concentrate on the events of just yesterday. He wanted to write all his encounters with Hari down in his journal. Yesterday, he managed to spend the whole day with Hari so he knew he had to be particularly detailed today. 

       He usually wakes up early enough to sit back in his pillows with a cup of hot tea with raspberry jam, or if he is feeling particularly indulgent, hot chocolate. While he enjoys his hot beverage he usually writes in his journal. This mornings hangover, being no exception. Head pounding he reached for his journal that he usually keeps beneath the pillow next to his head, feeling nothing there, he opens his eyes in confusion. Peering beneath the pillow, nothing. He lifts the other twelve pillows, still nothing. Hanging his head over the side of the bed, nope not there. Feeling by the baseboard; nothing. In a panic, Draco scrambles out of bed to fling the duvet back. 

      _Where is my journal?_

       He was just about to call his house-elf, when he heard a knock at his door. He didn’t smell his mother or his aunt, the house-elf would just Aparate in, so that left only Hari. Having forgotten everything from the night before, he rushed to the door to answer Hari at the door. 

       He opened the door, Hari was standing really close to the door, he hadn’t bothered knocking a second time. He was holding up Draco’s journal with his arm at a 90 degree angle upward. Draco was stunned. _What is Hari doing with my journal?_  His eyes quickly flickered between it and Hari, relieved that it was closed. Only his blood could open the journal. Hari couldn't have been able to read it, without Draco opening it with his blood first. But it begs the question, how did Hari have possession of his journal in the first place?

        "Can I come in?" Hari asked searching Draco's face for a reaction. He got none. He stepped up to the door jam, which forced Draco to take a step back into his room and let him in. 

        "How much do you remember from last night?" Hari asked.

         "Not much, I never blacked out before from consuming too much firewhiskey, but I guess there is a first time for everything. You?" Draco inquired, trying to put his hands in his trouser pockets, only to realize he was still in his pajamas, and _fucking hell_ , had no bottoms on. Draco looked down at his state of undress baffled and embarrassed.

         "Oh well. Then I suppose you do not remember confessing your everlasting love to me. Quoting Shakespeare, and telling me to make all your decisions for you?" 

      _No, I do not remember any of that. Fuck how much alcohol did he consume that he couldn't remember making a drunken love confession, like that to his long time rival, and secret crush._

     Draco was mortified. Hari on the other hand was really enjoying Draco's discomfort "...or propositioning me to go to bed with you?"  

    _Salazar, Kill me now._

   "... or letting me read your fascinating journal written about me?" Hari said with a charming grin. Draco wanted to rip that smile right off the smug bastards face.

     "So, what?" Draco decided to go on the offensive. "So I said I love you, it's not like I expect anything to come of it.” _Oh he was lying. He desperately wanted Hari to return to his feelings._

     "I don't know if I can return your feelings, Draco." Draco closed his eyes to his heartbreak. “Not yet, so I decided we could try..."

      Draco's eyes sprung open, "Try? Try what?”

      “Well…well, I mean, uh…not date. I’ve never…no” The words were having a hard time coming out. “like a trial. To see if, we get on well enough to…date.” Hari finished defeated with a lack of better words for what he wanted. 

       "Potter, that's what dating is." He laughed in relief. 

       "So?" Hari asked.

       "Are you asking me out on a date?" Draco asked in disbelief. 

       "Yeah, I guess I am." Hari mumbled, kicking the toe of his trainer. 

       "Yes" Draco said simply.

       "Yes? Yes! ...okay, okay...wow." Hari said in excitement. "So...so...Breakfast will be done in twenty minutes." Hari said and rushed down the stairs. 

        Draco made it down in about thirty-five minutes. It was the bare minimum he allowed himself to primp and preen in the mirror to look presentable. Hari was once more at the stove top, the house-elves fluttering around him. Aunt Andromeda was feeding Teddy a bottle, and his mother was primly drinking tea and reading the morning paper. He was nervous about what their reaction would be when he told them Hari and he were dating. 

      Draco glanced nervously at Hari, trying to smooth out his hair as much as possible, sweeping a few strands behind his ears. Not a minute later, Hari was setting breakfast down in front of him, tilting his head back and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. 

      "A promise is a promise." He mumbled against Draco's startled lips, before pulling away to sit at his side. 

      It didn't appear that his mother and aunt even saw the exchange. Draco glanced down with a secretive smile on his face. 

      Not looking up from feeding Teddy, Andromeda said, "You owe me ten Galleons, sister dearest." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Check out chapter 3 of Pulling Strings, Behind the Scenes. "Draco's Heart: YEAR ONE" out now. ***
> 
> Also check out, Peculiar Harry Potter (He calls it magic) a new series I am working on.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay Awesome!
> 
> Sincerely_Devra
> 
> November 30, 2018
> 
> Quick poll for the readers: will end on December 11, 2018
> 
> Do you think the animal portrayed on each of the Founders house crest represents a Patronus or an animagus?
> 
> Reply in the comments!


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